Wildflower in the North
by wildflowers15
Summary: BEING REWRITTEN! Please look for the rewrite under the new title "Torn Apart." Same OC, but much different plot line and hopefully much better :) This fic will be deleted soon.
1. Chapter 1

"What have you done to my daughter?" Father's voice booms throughout the empty court.

"What are you talking about?" Mother returns, her tone filled with irritation as usual, but with a touch of confusion now.

"You've turned her into some airheaded mockingbird that does and says whatever _you_ want her to!"

"I have done no such thing, Robert!"

Father stands in front of the Iron Throne, his crown slanted atop his head as he flails in anger. His chubby cheeks are bright red, even beneath the scraggly beard. Mother stands below, glaring up at the man she was forced to marry several years before. She denies having any effect over me, but we all know that's a lie. She has finally managed to sink her claws into me, despite how hard I have fought in my short life. I have become the little princess she always wanted and the person I never wanted to be.

I could see his disappointment earlier when he found me sewing. The crowned stag that I had been embroidering on a new dress did little to impress him. The look of disgust only grew as I described what my last few days had consisted of: sewing, singing, playing the harp. Things I never cared to do before, but had seemingly grown to love in the recent months. A feat that could only be accomplished by the Queen.

"Haven't done anything?" he roars. "I barely recognize her!"

I feel the sharp sting of his words. While I know it isn't an exaggeration, it still hurts. I was once my father's favorite and I fear he may dismiss me as he does to Joffrey now that I've become the image my mother wants. And if both my parents do not care for me, what will I do?

"Eliana was out of control, Robert, and you allowed it. She is finally behaving as a princess should and not as a little boy in the streets."

"She was only person in this awful castle that could bring life to it! You have snuffed out the light in her and replaced it with your own misery, Cersei!"

His words become too much for me and I quickly slip out of my hiding spot behind a back pillar and run to my chambers. I nearly collide with my brother as I round a corner. I hadn't realized my eyes were filled with tears until I register the delighted sneer on his face. Taking full advantage of an opportunity to kick me when I'm down, he begins spewing mean words, attempting to make the tears fall against my best efforts.

"What are you sniveling about? Mother catch you doing something stupid again?"

"Shove off, Joffrey," I mutter as I try to pass him, but he blocks my path, pushing me backwards.

"What was that, crybaby?" he hisses.

"Get out of my way!"

"Or what? You'll tell Father? Haven't you heard, Ellie? He doesn't like you anymore."

Even though my brother is a liar, this feels like the truth and he succeeds in trying to hurt me as the tears begin to roll down my cheeks. Joffrey's responding grin only sickens me with anger and I'm soon shoving him back with as much force as I can muster. The act catches him off guard enough that loses his balance and tumbles to the stone floor on his bottom.

"At least he liked me once!" I yell before taking off in a sprint, avoiding whatever he would have said to reciprocate.

…

Several days pass after eavesdropping on my parents' conversation and Father has not spoken to me once. He hasn't come to see me or requested I join him at court, he doesn't even spare me a glance when we're in the same room. I'm sure he no longer loves me as I have become what my mother wants and Father has never and could never love her. Each time, the idea of losing my father's favor sends a wave of sadness through me and I fight with all my might to keep the tears at bay.

I'm confined to my chambers for a day after Joffrey went to Mother and told her I pushed him. When I tried to tell my side of the story, she wouldn't hear it – as always. The only thing she cared to say was that princesses do not push people, especially not princes. My little brother was clearly pleased that his entire plan seemed to come to fruition with little effort on his part and I was stuck inside with nothing but my mother-approved activities to keep me busy.

When my punishment is over, I spend most of my time in the gardens. Joffrey, Mother, and Father never come here and there's plenty of places to hide from my guards. I sink further behind a bush of roses as the armored men scramble on the other side in search of me. I will surely be in trouble, once for hiding and another time for getting so dirty, but that doesn't stop me. If anything, it has me curling my fingers in the dirt just to get messier.

Just as I release a sigh, enjoying the sound of grown men helplessly searching for a little girl, I let out a squeal of surprise as hands come beneath my arms. I'm lifted over the roses and placed back on the path, forced to crane my neck up and stare at the scarred face of the Hound. He scowls down at me grimly as I huff in frustration, though, I am not surprised it's him. He's usually the only one who can find me.

"Hello, Sandor," I greet, my irritation going greatly unnoticed.

"Your Grace," he bows slightly. "Your parents are looking for you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Come," he orders, pointing in the direction of the castle.

"Can't you pretend to not have found me?" I beg.

"No."

"You use to be more fun," I grumble.

"As did you, Princess," I hear him mutter, though, I'm not sure I am meant to.

Stomping rather unladylike towards the castle, I abandon my safe haven in the gardens and go to court where my parents wait for me. Joined by Lord Arryn, my father's hand, and the kingsguard, of course, Father sits on his Iron Throne and Mother stands beside him. A sense of dread fills me as I make the long walk from the large, double doors to the end of the throne room. I look up at Sandor in question, but he barely spares me a glance.

When I reach the bottom of the few steps leading to the King's seat, I curtsy as I was taught and only barely catch Father's displeased sigh.

"What have you done to your gown, Ellie?" Mother questions.

"I was in the garden," I mumble as I look down at my dirt-stained dress.

"She was being a child, Cersei," Father snaps dismissively. "Ellie, we have news for you."

"What is it?" I ask suspiciously, holding my breath as I wait.

"We have decided to send you to Winterfell early instead of waiting until you come of age."

The breath I've held comes out in a swift gush as I search my parents' expressions for any sign that this is a joke. The solemn look on my mother's face tells me that it is not, though, Father looks pleased with his own decision. My eyes quickly shift to the other men in the room, Lord Arryn smiles slightly as if in encouragement while my Uncle Jaime frowns in disagreement. I return my gaze to the man who has spoken and find him watching me intently.

"B-but I can't get married yet," I argue.

"Of course, you can't," Father laughs at the notion. "You're only ten. No, you will be Lord and Lady Stark's ward until it is time for you to marry their son."

"You don't want me to live here anymore?" I question as sorrow consumes me. "Is this because I pushed Joff? He deserved it, I swear! I didn't even hurt him, he's always shoving me and I get scrapes and bruises! He didn't even get dirty!"

"You pushed your – this has nothing to do with that," he says as he waves his hand for emphasis. "If you're going to be the Lady of Winterfell someday and the Wardeness of the North, you ought to live there and meet your people. Get to know your new home."

"But this is supposed to be my home until I marry…"

"You've always wanted to leave King's Landing before, you don't anymore?"

"Not as a punishment," I mutter.

"Punishment?" Father scoffs. "This is not a punishment."

"She doesn't want to go, Robert. Why must you force her?" Mother intervenes.

"She does want to go, she just doesn't understand," the king sighs. "Leave us."

"I will not," Mother quips.

"All of you, out!" he bellows. " _Now_!"

Those in the throne room sort of scatter out, my mother being the only one who seems to hesitate, but another harsh look from my father and she storms after my uncle. I'm left alone with him and his disappointment in me.

"Come here, Ellie," he says after the silence envelopes us.

"Mother says –"

"Blast it! I don't care what your mother says!" He cuts me off, his face turning red again. "Come up here, girl."

Mother had told me to stop approaching the throne with so little propriety as it is not my place to sit on the Iron Throne with Father, even if he gave me permission. I can't even count how many times I've gotten in trouble for interrupting court just to speak to him. Yet, now I climb the short steps to stand before him and await my dismissal that will send me all the way north.

"Father, I don't know what I've done wrong," I tell him, desperate to fix whatever I have ruined.

"Eliana, you have done nothing wrong. Why do you assume you have?" he demands.

"Because you're sending me away."

"You've never liked it here, you've always wanted to go to Winterfell, why would it be a punishment?" he questions, only continuing when I remain silent. "This is for your own good, Ellie. I don't like what you've become."

"What do you mean, Father?"

Father leans forward so we're at eye level as he speaks, "This is no place for someone like you. Wildflowers do not blossom in gardens, Ellie. You need freedom and so long as your mother has her way, you will never be free."

…

The wheelhouse comes to a rough and final stop as we reach our destination after the long journey north. The air is far colder than I ever imagined and I pull my cloak tighter around me. Across from me, Lady Arryn coos at her son as the babe fusses. I have spent most of the trip confined to this little, makeshift cell, forced to listen to the awful woman and her inconsolable child. I begged Uncle Jon to allow me to ride my own horse, but he only let me do so on the safest parts of the King's Road.

I had been wishing the journey would end from the moment it began and I realized I would be forced into the company of Lysa and Robin Arryn, but now that is has, I want nothing more than to do it again. Knowing the Starks wait just outside of the carriage doors, the boy I've been betrothed to practically since birth standing there to meet for the first time, I find myself frozen amongst the plush pillows. My heart pounds so loudly, I'm sure everyone must hear it. I nearly choke on my own fear as the door opens and gust of cold air surrounds me.

The two handmaidens exit first followed by Lady Arryn carrying her babe. Despite looking at me, she seems painfully unaware of the panic consuming me. Even as I'm left in the empty wheelhouse, I can't force myself to move an inch. Questions of insecurity race through my mind. What if they don't like me? What if Robb Stark thinks I'm ugly? What if he hates me and doesn't wish to marry me? What if Lady Stark is as unbearable as Mother? What will I do if this is my new home and I hate it more than the last one?

"Your Grace," Uncle Jon's voice reaches me, calm and comforting. He pokes his head through the open door and smiles at me. "Come along, Princess. They're waiting."

Mother's words come to mind as Lord Arryn ducks back out of the carriage.

" _Remember who you are, Eliana. You're a princess, the oldest child of the king. Never forget it."_

I am a princess. I'm a proper princess.

With a deep breath, I finally force myself to move. I take hold of Uncle Jon's offered hand as he helps me down the short steps from the wheelhouse. He escorts me towards the large group of people waiting for me, all of whom bow and curtsy at the sight of me, and stops in front of the man I assume to be Lord Stark. Shivering from the chill seeping through my cloak, I look up at my father's dearest friend.

"Your Grace, this is Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North," Uncle Jon confirms my assumption as he makes the introduction. "May I present the Princess Eliana."

"It's an honor, Princess," Lord Stark says as he takes my hand from Lord Arryn's and kisses it.

"Th-the honor is mine, my lord." I tell him in shaky voice. "I thank you for – for…allowing me…"

I forget what I am supposed to say and glance nervously at Uncle Jon. He nods in encouragement and I release a shuddery breath as I return my gaze to Lord Stark. I can feel everyone watching me and embarrassment colors my cheeks. Down casting my eyes, I attempt to push the tears back as they sting the corners.

"Forgive me, my lord. I've forgotten myself," I mutter to my feet, fearing my mother may somehow sense my failure and appear out of thin air.

Soft fingers gently lift my chin and I suddenly find myself staring into the kind, blue eyes of an unfamiliar woman. Her red hair is pulled back in a long braid and her smile is soft, somehow warming me in the northern cold.

"You needn't fear, Princess. It has been a long journey for you," she assures.

"I'd shame my mother forgetting myself like this," I whisper.

"You shame no one, sweet girl."

I feel my eyes widen in surprise, but the tears that burned in them before have now dried. I take a deep breath and straighten my spine as she releases my chin, smiling down at me once more.

"Princess, this is Lady Catelyn Stark," Lord Arryn informs me and I smile in relief. I am to be her ward and I breathe easier knowing that she seems nothing like my own mother.

"Thank you for opening up your home to me, my lord, my lady. I am quite delighted to be in Winterfell," I say with new confidence. I glance at Lord Arryn who nods in approval and grin in pride.

"I present my son, your grace," Lord Stark says as a boy steps forward from beside him. "This is Robb."

I look at the boy who is just a bit taller than me. His hair is a mop of reddish-brown curls while his eyes are the same shade, if not bluer, than his mother's. He is the one I'm promised to; the one I will marry someday. My father offered my hand only a few days after my birth and he was only a year old. I have been told my entire life that I would come here and unite the House Baratheon and the House Stark as my father once tried to do. Now, it's the strangest thing, I've known he existed, but meeting him seems so unreal.

"It's nice to meet you, my princess," Robb says nervously, taking my gloved hand with warm fingers and bringing it up to kiss hesitantly. I feel my cheeks warm as his turn pink as well and I swallow the lump in my throat to reply.

"And you, my lord." I tell him with a shy smile.

I wonder if this is how it felt when Mother met Father for the first time. Did he act polite and proper like Robb Stark or was he always as crass as he is now? Did butterflies flutter in her stomach at the mere sight of him as I feel now looking into the blue eyes of my intended?

A part of me hopes that their meeting was nothing like ours because their marriage is a sham and I hope to every god in existence that mine and Robb Stark's won't be.

I hope I'll fall in love with him the way the girls do in all the stories, right before they get their happy ending.

* * *

Hello! Thank you for checking out this little story. This is my first Game of Thrones fic and I've got a lot of plans for it, but I'll only continue it if it seems people are interested in it.

So, Ellie is my original character and this is just an introduction to how she fits in with the story line. I know the king and queen may seem a bit out of character, but hopefully it's only the case when it comes to their relationship with their daughter. The next chapter will pick up with the first episode of season one and should be posted later tonight because I already wrote it.

Let me know what you all think, if it's good enough to continue and other comments or questions! I hope you enjoy!

Thanks again,  
-V


	2. Chapter 2

Six Years Later

"Hello, dear," Lady Cat greets as I stop beside her.

"How are you today, Princess?" Lord Stark questions with a smile.

"Quite well, thank you, my lord. And you?"

"Enjoying a cool, summer day," he says. "The boys are teaching Bran to shoot."

"How is it going?"

"As well as it should be," she answers for her husband.

"And how are the teachers?" I ask.

Looking down to the courtyard where the Stark boys and Jon Snow have gathered, I watch as Bran draws an arrow and aims it at the target with a decent form. However, as he releases his grip, the arrows flies crookedly, hitting a barrel near the canvas. The boy's shoulders sag in disappointment and I catch the amused smile that briefly touches Robb's lips as he watches his little brother. Jon moves around Bran, saying something quietly, advice I assume, but a moment later, they're all glancing up to where we stand.

I give an encouraging smile to Bran and his teachers, receiving a happy one from Robb in return as he realizes I'm watching. They go back to the task at hand as the younger Stark tries again, but the next arrow falls far beyond the target, enticing laughter from the boys around him.

"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Lord Stark demands good-naturedly. "Keep practicing, Bran. Go on."

Bran does as he's bid after the laughter has died down. Robb and Jon give him advice and he draws his arrow once more. The accomplished _thunk_ sounds out as an arrow meets the black circle of the target, but Bran has not taken his shot. The boys spin around to see where the arrow came from and I peak over the ledge, trying to catch sight of Arya who I assume to be the shooter.

Bran drops his bow and takes off after his older sister as his brothers laugh and cheer after him. I relish in the warmth of the family I've come to call my own in the past years. There were never moments even similar to these between my siblings and me. Myrcella and Tommen were much too young and Joffrey was far too mean to share any happy memories together. Years ago, it made me sad to see such differences in my own family, but that sadness faded as I developed a special bond with each Stark and gained what I had been missing.

"Lord Stark!" Ser Rodrik's voice booms from behind me. I tear my eyes away from Robb and Jon below to look at the master-at-arms. He bows his head toward Lady Cat and me. "My lady, my princess."

The bearded man goes on to say that they've caught a deserter of the Night's Watch and the smile that graced Lord Stark's face falls as he realizes what must be done. Even as Lady Cat seeks another way, both men deny that possibility and Lord Stark goes as far as to order that Bran be brought along even against his wife's wishes.

After the men leave us to prepare for the execution, I turn to the redhead and attempt to comfort her. "I saw an execution when I was younger than ten and I was just fine."

"It didn't haunt your nightmares for weeks after?" she questions skeptically.

"Well, of course it did. If the death of another doesn't haunt someone even briefly, then surely, they are ill in the heart. Bran is brave, my lady. He will fare well."

"Your optimism is a gift, sweet Ellie," she murmurs as she casts a glance down at the yard.

A coldness seeps into her expression that I know she saves only for one person. I follow her gaze to see Jon slipping arrows back into the stands. He meets Lady Cat's stare head on, her displeasure at the mere sight of him something that he has long since learned to live with. After a moment, she turns away and follows in the direction her husband headed. Jon's gaze shifts to me and I smile weakly, knowing he won't return the gesture.

I stare into the doe eyes of my best friend a moment longer, silently wishing that he wouldn't have to endure such things, before following Lady Stark.

…

 _Unsurprisingly, I manage to slip away from my guards. So far, I quite like the Starks, but the fear of them not liking me is suffocating and I have to find an escape before I lose my mind. So, I sneak out of the dining hall everyone has gathered in and go searching for a good hiding place. However, the problem is that I have no idea where to go or where I am. The first familiar place I stumble across is the stables so I wander inside to check on my horse, Rain._

 _My white horse has already been given a stall and I go to pet her, but stop when I see movement farther down. There's a boy petting the snout of a different horse, unaware that I am here. He has dark curls that tickle his cheeks and eyes of a similar color. He can't be much older than me, but he looks so serious with his pout and big, sad eyes. He's dressed far too nice to be just a stable boy, though, I haven't seen him at all today and I thought I met all the highborns in Winterfell._

 _I continue to study him in silence until he realizes I'm watching. He looks up suddenly and jumps slightly in shock. His eyes widen so much I think that they might fall right out of his head._

 _"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," I tell him, stepping forward until I'm right in front of him._

 _The boy doesn't respond, he just continues to stare with his mouth agape. For a moment, I think he might not be able to speak. Ser Illyn doesn't speak, but the Mad King cut his tongue out and the boy's mouth is open enough that I can see he still has his. I have read about people that are born mute though, perhaps he is one._

 _"Is this your horse?" I ask as my fingers reach out to brush the mane of the brown filly. Still, he does not speak and I am almost certain his is, in fact, a mute. "Do you talk?"_

 _"Y-you're – yes, your grace," he stutters, surprising me, but then he drops to a bow and I sigh._

 _"You don't have to do that, there's no one around," I tell him. The boy straightens, glancing around as he realizes we are completely alone._

 _"I am sorry, Princess. I wasn't expecting you…where are your guards?" he questions, his eyes darting about nervously._

 _"Looking for me probably," I say._

 _His brows furrow in confusion, "Shouldn't you be inside? With the others?"_

 _"Yes," I answer simply. "What is your name?"_

 _"Jon Snow, your grace."_

 _"Snow? Isn't that the bastard name of the North?" I ask, but his expression seems to harden at my words in a way I'm not sure someone as young as us should be able to do. I quickly backpedal in embarrassment as my cheeks warm. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I just – I know it's Waters in King's Landing."_

 _"You didn't offend me," Jon Snow tells me quickly, though, his tone says differently._

 _"Who's you father?" I ask. "You've got know if you have a surname, right?"_

 _"Yes, you must be acknowledged," he says. "My father is Lord Stark, your grace."_

 _"Your – Lord Stark? Do you live in the castle then?"_

 _"Yes, your grace."_

 _"Oh, stop calling me that, would you? Call me Ellie," I tell him. "If you live in the castle, then we shall live together! Oh, we'll have lessons together and meals…"_

 _I smile brightly at Jon, but he does not return the gesture._

 _"We're to be family, you must call me Ellie."_

 _"I don't think I can, Princess."_

 _"Why not?" I demand, a grin still planted on my face._

 _"I'm just a bastard," he mutters, looking away from me._

 _"So?" I question. His eyes snap back to mine, wide and confused. "You're just Jon and I am just Ellie."_

 _Jon Snow does not smile at me, but, for whatever reason, mine refuses to wane._

…

"Ellie! Ellie, look!" Bran's calls out as he comes running from the stables, meeting me halfway while I'm going to find Robb.

"What's this?" I ask as my eyes zero in on the small bundle of fur in his arms, gasping as I realize what it is. "Is that a wolf?"

"It's a direwolf," he tells me, his eyes shining in excitement. It seems Lady Cat's fears of her young son witnessing an execution are all for naught as he seems to already forgotten the horror. "We found them in the woods, their mother was dead."

"Them? There's more?"

"Yes! One for each Stark and for Jon!"

I look up as I sense the approach of another and find my intended holding his own grey and white pup with a bright smile on his face.

"Oh, gods help me," I mutter, but I am unable to help the smile forming in return to his. The way his blue eyes sparkle in delight makes my heart flutter slightly in my chest. "Your father let you take them?"

"Yes, Jon convinced him," Bran answers for his brother. "We just have to care of them ourselves. The kennel master won't be responsible."

"They'll be dangerous soon, you'll have to train them," I tell the boy and he nods in agreement.

"I know! I'm going to show Arya!" Bran runs off without a glance backwards and I return my attention to the man before me.

"Would you like to hold him?" he asks, not waiting for my answer as he places the pup in my arms. The wolf looks up at me, sniffing my cheek before licking me and I giggle as I pat his little head.

"I thought there were no direwolves south of the wall," I say.

"I thoughts so too, it's weird they've migrated."

"Don't you think it seems a bit mad having six wild animals running around the castle walls?" I question.

"Perhaps," Robb quirks an eyebrow. "You're right, shall I get rid of him then? I'll take him back to the woods."

Robb reaches for his pet, but I'm quick to spin away. "What? No! I just said it was mad, not that I didn't want to keep him."

He laughs at me, shaking his head as he ducks down to kiss my cheek. "Jon gave a very compelling argument for why we should get to keep them, but had you been there, you would have taken them and not allowed anyone to say otherwise."

"Possibly," I grin. "Your mother will be furious."

"Then, perhaps, we shouldn't talk to her about it," he looks around us to see if anyone is watching and once he's satisfied they're not, he takes my hand and leads me to the godswood.

Laughing as we run through the trees, we duck behind a weirwood and try to catch our breath. The wolf pup looks around curiously from his place in my arms before snuggling closer to me. I scratch his little ears as his eyes close in contentment and look up at Robb who is watching me with a smile.

"He is sweet," I say.

"Hmm," Robb hums in agreement, stepping closer to me.

His hands move to cup my cheeks as his head dips down to press a kiss to my lips. One of my own hands leaves the wolf to lay against his chest as his mouth lingers on mine. He pulls away after a moment, staring down at me as his thumb brushes over my cheek bone. The amused smile he held earlier has faded, his expression growing serious.

"What is it, my love?" I ask quietly.

"You use to say the white walkers were real, do you still believe that?"

I peer at him in confusion as I answer, "I believe they existed once, but they have been gone for centuries now. Why do you ask such a thing?"

"The man my father executed, he said he saw them. He said that's why he ran because the white walkers killed the men he was with," Robb shares, seeming torn.

"Do you believe he was speaking the truth?"

"I don't know what I believe. The man did not seem like a liar and despite what he said, he died with dignity. He did not beg for his life, but rather, he wanted people to know what he saw as his dying words," he tells me. "Does a liar do that?"

"I wouldn't think so."

"So, are they back then, the white walkers?"

"Just because a man truly believes something doesn't mean it is the truth," I tell him. "Perhaps, he's gone mad. North of the Wall is no place for people."

"Father said something similar, he believes the deserter was a madman," Robb says, but he still seems unsure.

"If your father says, I would trust him."

"You're right," he sighs. "It's just strange. White walkers and then finding direwolves down here. I just feel like something is coming."

I look down at the wolf sleeping in the crook of my arm. I can understand Robb's sense of foreboding, but to worry about it now will only make it worse. I have always believed there are things north of the Wall that come from stories that people tell children to scare them. If they weren't real, then why did the First Men build the Wall?

Not knowing what to say to comfort him, I simply stand on my toes and kiss him again. He is easily distracted and soon the kiss is deepening as he moves us until my back is pressed against the tree behind me. My free hand moves up his chest to his shoulder before my fingers curl through red-brown curls. Moments later, I am as distracted as him.

…

"They're too young to understand," I laugh as I watch Robb and Jon attempt to train their wolves.

"You've got to teach them young, though," Theon says from beside me.

"Come on, then, _sit_ ," Robb orders. The wolf pup tilts his head in confusion as he looks up at his master.

"We have to show them," Jon tells him.

"What are you going to do, Snow? Sit with him?" Theon questions, amused by his own joke.

"No," Jon snips in annoyance. He places his hand on the white wolf's lower back and pushes him down as he commands, " _Sit_."

"That's smart, Jon," I say. "Try it, Robb."

"Robb, Ellie," Lord Stark's voice interrupts the training session as we all turn to see him and Lady Cat standing with somewhat solemn expressions. "Come, we need to talk."

Robb and I share a curious look and suddenly his sense of foreboding becomes mine. Fear dries my throat as I nervously stand and walk with my intended as we follow his parents. We go to the main hall and sit together at the high table, a tense silence fills the room as we await the impending news.

"Ellie, we're so sorry to tell you, but Jon Arryn has died. A raven arrived from King's Landing today," Lady Cat tells me, her blue eyes holding nothing but sympathy.

My heart sinks to my stomach at the news. "H-how?"

"He took a fever, it happened quickly."

"I-I…" I'm lost for words as my sadness overwhelms me. I know Uncle Jon was older, but I never thought he would die so soon. It's only been six years since I last saw him, he can't have grown so much older he was unable to fight an illness so simple.

"There is more news," Lady Cat says softly. "Happier news."

Robb's hand covers my own as they rest in my lap and I try to focus on them to keep the tears at bay. "What is it?" he asks.

"The king and queen, and the rest of them, ride for Winterfell," she tells us. I look up from my lap to see a small smile gracing Lady Stark's expression. Robb's hand tightens over mine.

"Your father has decided it's time for you two to be wed," Lord Stark says.

Robb and I turn to each other, his smile the brightest I've ever seen while I try to process the information we have been given.

 _We're getting married._

* * *

Hi again!

I know it's soon to update, but so far I have the first five chapters written and these first two are sort of uneventful as I set up the story. Hopefully, no one minds the pace! Thanks so much for checking out my story, I hope you enjoy. And thank you to the guest who reviewed the first chapter and those who followed and favorited. I really appreciate it.

Let me know what you think and if you have any questions. I do love reviews. :)

Next chapter, the king and queen arrive in Winterfell!

Thanks again,  
-V


	3. Chapter 3

_"Must you go so soon, Uncle Jon?" I question as he checks the straps of his horse. Lady Arryn and baby Robin have already settled within the wheelhouse and now the company that brought me to Winterfell waits only for the Hand of the King to make their leave._

 _"I must, my princess. I need to return to your father and the council," he tells me._

 _"But I don't want you to go yet," I say._

 _Lord Arryn kneels in front of me so we are on the same level and gives me a gentle smile. "I have already seen a difference in you, Princess. You seem so much happier here in the North, as if you can breathe for the first time."_

 _"I like it here," I admit, "but I'm afraid you will leave and I will never see you again."_

 _"Of course, you will," he assures. "The next time we meet, sweet child, it will be for your wedding."_

 _"Do you promise?"_

 _"I do, you will see everyone again. And until then, you will learn to call Winterfell your home."_

 _After a moment, I nod in agreement._

 _"Goodbye, sweet Princess."_

…

I bite at my nails nervously as my heart pounds in my chest. Father and the court have entered Winterfell and I can hear horses, the clink of armor bouncing, and wheelhouses bumbling over the ground. Lady Cat reaches over in a very motherly gesture and pulls my hand from my mouth, squeezing lightly before turning to search for Arya. I let my arms drop to my side as my teeth begin to worry my lower lip instead.

I feel a tug on my cloak and look down to find Rickon staring at me in question.

"Are you okay, Ellie?" he asks quietly.

I smile at the sweet boy despite my worry, "I'm quite all right, love. Just…excited to see my family after so many years."

Rickon nods, but he was only a babe when I first arrived in Winterfell. The lordling doesn't know a time when I didn't live in the North. I'm sure he forgets most of the time that I am even a princess. Most of the time, I would forget as well if people weren't still so adamant about calling me it. Mother will have a conniption fit when she finds out how many people I allow to simply call me Ellie.

I take a deep breath to steady myself, desperately trying to remember that this is my family. The king and queen are my parents. Everyone with them are people that I have known for the majority of my life. Not seeing them for six years doesn't change that fact. Surely, things haven't changed so much that I won't remember how to act with them.

Arya runs past with a helm atop her head. I smile slightly at the sight, my nerves easing just a bit. Leaning forward, I watch Lord Stark take the armor before sending her down to stand between Sansa and Bran. I glance up and see Robb staring at me. He gives me a reassuring smile and, just like that, I feel better. I realize none of it matters, my parents' visit or what they think of me now. The only thing that matters is my wedding to Robb.

Smiling back, I stand a little straighter and watch as the beginning of the company starts to fill the area in front of us. First, there's a knight of the King's Guard, his gold armor and white cloak reminding me of my childhood spent running away from them. His helmet masks his face enough that I can't tell who he is, but I am almost positive it's my Uncle Jaime. Second, I spot the large frame of a man who can only be the Hound wearing the helmet of a scary dog.

Then, I see my brother. Joffrey eyes me as he rides in on his dark brown horse. He looks just as I remember him, handsome, but with features just a bit smaller than they should be. He's older as well, obviously, but he still looks like a boy where Robb and Jon are closer to men. My little brother looks away from me and, judging by the smirk that contorts his thin lips, he finds Sansa.

A wheelhouse comes into view then, clearly decorated for House Lannister, and I know my mother, my sister, and my youngest brother are in there. The nerves that my intended had eased momentarily return full force and there is a part of me that wants to run. I'm not as fast as I was as a child, but I know I am still quick enough to escape. It would be a fitting tribute to this family reunion and far from surprising to anyone that knows me, but as I glance around for a way out, I catch the look Cat shoots me and know she's read my mind. So, I settle once again for watching my family's arrival.

The carriage comes to a halt, but my eyes are torn away from it as I register everyone around me sinking to the ground in a bow. My gaze lands on a heavy man riding a black horse. His scraggly beard and hair are more gray than black these days and his cheeks are chubbier than they once were, but I would recognize my father anywhere.

Men go to assist the king as he dismounts his horse. One takes the reins as another brings wooden steps for him to climb down with ease. I step forward so I am in front of the Starks and wait for my father to approach me. My heart begins to race again as he moves closer and closer, the serious expression he carries only enhancing my fear. Then, he is standing directly before me for the first time since I was ten years old.

The blue of his eyes is murky now, with age maybe or alcohol. He stares at me with a hardened look like I'm being examined and I suddenly drop to a curtsey as I remember my manners. As I straighten up, I gaze back at my father with wide eyes, waiting for his verdict. He squints down at me, taking in every inch of my face and I can't take it any longer.

"Hello, Father," I greet quietly, a small smile gracing my lips. After a few more moments of his harsh gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkle as a large grin plants itself on his face.

"There she is!" He exclaims and my spirit lifts at the familiar sound of his hearty voice. His arms open and instinct has me jumping into his embrace like I'm a little girl again. "My wildflower."

He squeezes me tightly, lifting me off the ground briefly as I giggle like a child. I'm relieved that my courtesies can be forgotten as I'm reunited with my father. He sets me on the ground and places his hands on my shoulders to look me over once again.

"You're as beautiful as ever, Ellie," he says as he releases me.

I move aside as he steps towards the Starks behind me. He grows serious as he stares down at Ned for a moment before gesturing with his hand for them to rise. Everyone stands at my father's silent order and my eyes land on Jon who stands behind his own father. He gives me a light smile that few others than me rarely see and I smile brightly in return.

My smile, however, fades as I hear my father's words.

"You've got fat."

My eyes widen as I return my attention to the two men. Ned, for his part, does not take offense. Instead, he looks my father up and down and quirks his brows. Father, in turn, begins to laugh, a strange, wheezy noise that still echoes in my mind from all the times I interrupted court to play with him. Ned laughs too and everyone else seems to smile in relief.

"Cat!" Father greets as he kisses her cheek.

"Your grace," she says with a smile.

Father ruffles Rickon's hair before moving back towards Ned. "Nine years – why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, your grace. Winterfell is yours," Ned tells him with a grin.

My father's attention turns towards Robb, the easy-going attitude he had after seeing his old friend and me after so long dissipating as he steps closer to my intended. He stares him down, looking at him in a way that I don't recognize.

"So, you're the one," he says gruffly. "The one that's going to marry my Ellie."

"Yes, your grace," Robb answers with a bow.

"Ah," Father's grim expression transforms into an amused smile once again. "Good looking man. They'll make a good-looking family. Good to meet you, Robb."

They shake hands before he moves onto speak with Sansa and the other two Starks. Robb and I share a look of relief, but just as I intend to move towards him, I sense the approach of another. Turning, I find my mother standing there. She looks older, but not by much, and a bit worn from the long journey. Her smile is different than my father's, as if she is not as pleased to see me. Or, hopefully, she's just not as pleased to be in Winterfell because while I may not need her approval now, I do want it – just as every child does.

Unfortunately, even I must admit that I do crave my mother's love. Perhaps, that is where my jealousy of Joffrey stems from. He has never had to do anything to earn her affection while I'm not sure I've ever experienced it before.

"My sweet girl," she murmurs, pulling me into a hug. Her expression does little to illustrate her feelings towards seeing me, but the strength with which she holds onto me says much more.

"Hello, Mother," I say as I return the embrace. She pulls away, our loving moment ending as quickly as it began, and she places her palm against my cheek before moving to the Starks.

I watch her hold a hand out for Ned to kiss and something about the way she holds herself, as if she is so much better than him, bothers me enough that I have to look away. There's no sense in watching it if I know it will never change so I turn in search of the rest of my family. I spot Myrcella and Tommen and move towards where they stand outside the wheelhouse, ignoring the words my parents share behind me.

In the past six years, Robb's siblings have become my own. I love each of them dearly and I feel as though I have always been a part of the Stark family. Joffrey and I were never close and the other two are so much younger, it's strange now to be with them again and realize that I know my intended's brothers and sisters far better than I will ever know my own. Yet, there's a certain joy that fills me at the sight of their two smiling faces, a love that returns after such a long time apart.

"You can't be my sister," I say as I stop in front of them. Myrcella and Tommen look at me strangely before I continue. "You are far too pretty."

Her responding smile brightens the surrounding area, "Ellie! I've missed you," she tells me as her arms wrap about my waist.

"And I've missed you," I say in return. "Look at you, Tommen. You will be fighting in tournaments in no time. Do you remember me, love?"

"Yes," my youngest sibling answers with a grin. I pull him into a warm embrace after releasing Myrcella. "I missed you too. No one stopped Joff from picking on us."

I try to hide my frown at that as I brush my fingers through his hair the same way I do to Bran and Rickon's all the time. Before I'm forced to answer him, Mother, Joffrey, and Uncle Jaime join us. Not one of them looks particularly pleased to be here, but Mother's eyes soften somewhat as she watches my interaction with her younger children. Uncle Jaime gives me a familiar, self-assured smirk and I fight the urge to roll my eyes at how much he _hasn't_ changed.

"Ellie, lovely to see you at last," he tells me, bowing slightly. "I'm off to search for your other uncle."

After a pointed look to my mother, he smirks at me again before taking his leave, I don't even have the opportunity to reply. I'm forced, then, to acknowledge my other brother's presence. Joffrey stares at me with forced effort, his slight smile faker than I've ever seen on him. I release a quiet sigh as I realize I must instigate the conversation and if I don't, I will surely suffer from our mother.

"Joffrey, I have missed you," I lie.

"And I you, sweet sister." He fibs in return.

"Come, Ellie," Mother interrupts the awkward air between Joffrey and me, much to my relief. "We've much to discuss."

…

"Tell me, Ellie, what the past six years have been like for you," Mother requests.

After introductions have been made all around and my family had been shown to their guest chambers inside the castle, I sit with Mother at the small table in her room, sipping tea. Myrcella and Tommen are with us as well, but they're tended to by the handmaidens that accompanied them in their travels. I realized soon after speaking to Joffrey that my father had disappeared to the crypts to pay his respects to Lyanna Stark, his lost love, and that I probably won't see him for a bit now.

"It's much the same as how I described it in my letters, Mother," I tell her. "It's lovely here, the Starks have welcomed me into their family since the very beginning, and…"

"And?" she presses as I trail off in uncertainty.

"I feel as though I belong here, Mother." I admit quietly, knowing she won't like what I say. "As though, I have always belonged here."

"You belong here because it is where your father chose for you at birth," Mother says, her tone belying her distaste for my words. "What of the boy, Robb Stark? He treats you well?"

I smile at the mention of my betrothed. "Yes, very well."

"You love him?" she asks in surprise.

"I told you in my letters whenever you would ask, Mother."

"I suspected you only said it because you thought it to be the right answer."

"No, I said it because I mean it. I've been ready to marry him for years now."

"I don't want you to be married yet," she sighs. "Even your father doesn't truly want you to right now either."

"But it was Father who made the decision," I say. "Why would he choose now if he did not want it to happen?"

"He's using it as an excuse to come here, Ellie. He wants Ned Stark to be the next Hand and he wants there to be no reason for him to deny the job."

"Father wants Lord Stark to go to King's Landing…"

Robb's words from before, the sense of foreboding he spoke of a month ago, suddenly comes to mind. A sick feeling twists in the pit of my stomach and a coldness different than what surrounds us in the North sinks to my bones. I do not know why the thought of my soon-to-be father-by-law going to my home causes so much fear, but I do know that there must be a very good reason for it.

Something is coming…

* * *

Hello again!

So this chapter is short and a bit uneventful, but I just wanted Ellie to be reunited with her family so the real fun can start. Thank you so, so much to all who have reviewed, favorited, and followed. I appreciate all of you and I'm glad that there is in interest in this little fic.

A few questions to answer to my lovely guest reviewers:

Lucy: Ellie will fall in love with both Robb and Jon and I'm excited to show her relationship with both! And I agree, Cersei isn't going to like her daughter's change all that much. Thank you for the review!

Marvelmyra: I'm very glad to hear that the characters are themselves and that Ellie has been integrated well, and I hope to keep it that way as the story continues. Sandor isn't her sworn sword, but they are both fond of each other. Robin probably was a bit young and I actually had written him older, but when I checked the ages of the characters, I realized I was way off so I changed it. To your second review (thank you so much for both!), the time jump is big, but almost every chapter will have at least one flashback scene and that's how I plan to depict her growing relationships with each member of the Stark family. Ellie does abandon the proper princess shell, though, this chapter doesn't really show that very much because she's sort of catapulted backwards by the reunion with her family. And Theon isn't her favorite person in the world for several reasons, but that will be shown in later chapters. Thank you so much for the feedback and I hope to hear from you again!

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and I think I will be posting another chapter later tonight! Thank you so much again for the feedback and interest! Please let me know what you think and if there are any questions. I'm excited to continue with this and for you all to see as Ellie's character develops!

(Edited a mistake after posting this. Forgive me, Robert's eyes are blue, not green.)

-V :)


	4. Chapter 4

"Father, surely it is a waste of an alliance. There are many strong houses who offer their daughters to Joffrey. House Stark is already tied to our house because of my marriage.

"Many houses offer their daughters to move themselves up in the world. Power plays and what not." Father says dismissively. "The Starks don't."

"Because they already have a princess, they do not need a prince," I argue. "Father, please."

"Ellie," Father sighs as if I'm exhausting him. "I will not debate these matters with you. I've named Ned the Hand of the King. Should he accept, his daughter will marry Joffrey and you will still marry Robb."

"Lord Stark has not even said yes yet," Mother says, favoring my side for once. "Joffrey doesn't need to wed soon and the Stark girl is still too young."

"Ah," he shakes his head. "Who bloody cares right now? I'm done with this conversation."

"Father," I plead as he begins to make his way out of the guest chambers.

"Ellie, there are more important things to worry about, my love. Your wedding is the one we're planning, not your brother's," Mother tells me. "Shall we get ready? The feast begins at sundown."

"Yes, Mother," I mutter as I stare at the door my father has just slammed.

It's apparent the he will not be swayed on these matters. My only hope to save Sansa from a marriage to my brother is to convince Ned, but even as I think of ways to persuade him, I know it will be all for naught. To deny the king when he offers his heir, that would be foolish. Not to mention the long friendship and history they share; Lord Stark is far too dutiful and loyal to not agree with Father.

…

The feast roars around us in the dining hall. The air is thick and hot, it weighs heavy in my lungs. The smell of men, meat, and smoke wafts around us while my ears strain to hear my mother and Lady Cat's brief conversation. Sitting at the high table with them, I can see everything. Robb talking with Theon and some others, Sansa giggling with her friend Jane, Arya looking like she's about to do something that will get her into trouble. There's Ned who looks so terribly uncomfortable and out of place that it's almost funny. Then, Father sitting on a table, drinking, and going on with some woman with breasts hanging out of her dress.

I tear my eyes away from that sight, my father's ways seem to have only worsen in the years past. From the corner of my eye, I can see Mother watching him with an unreadable expression. While it disgusts me to know my father has never respected his marriage, I find it difficult to sympathize with her as I know she carries secrets far worse than any he ever could. As that memory resurfaces, I seek out Robb once more and release a quiet breath of relief to see that there are no women around him.

Noticing, not for the first time tonight, that Jon is nowhere to be seen, I decide to go find him. I have little doubt that he was not invited and imagine that Cat had something to do with it. He's probably somewhere outside training, so I stand silently to go search.

Mother notices immediately and interrupts whatever Lady Cat is saying to question me. "Where are you going, Eliana?"

"Just to go speak with Robb," I fib, knowing she will disapprove of anything I say, but more so if I tell her I'm leaving the feast without permission.

She gives me a look that says she doesn't quite believe me, but she doesn't stop me as she once did in King's Landing. Her curt nod dismisses me and I smile at both women before slipping away. I can feel their eyes on me and I realize that I must go talk to my intended first if I want any chance of getting out of here. So, I slide around people as I head towards him, carefully avoiding the raucous crowd.

I glance back just before I reach Robb and see that the presence of Sansa distracts both my mother and Lady Cat. Smiling to myself in relief, I grab two cups of ale off a near table and rush out of the dining hall before anyone can stop me.

As I move quickly outside, I collide with someone's chest. Hands go to my arms to steady me as I look up with wide, embarrassed eyes.

"Princess," the man bows as he releases.

"Lord Benjen, I am so sorry," I hastily apologize. "I should have been watching."

"It's quite all right, Princess," he says with a kind smile. "Please, call me Benjen or Uncle Benjen if you like. You are marrying my nephew and I have long since given up the title of lord."

"Uncle Benjen then, but you must call me Ellie in return," I smile brightly. The Night's Watchman laughs lightly as he glances at the cups in my hands.

"You look like you're doing something you shouldn't be," he comments with a quirked brow.

"I'm looking for Jon," I whisper. "Mother won't approve of me abandoning the feast, especially one being given for my family."

"Ah, well, he's right outside," he says, but his amused expression darkens. "Ellie, do you know of Jon's desire to go to the Wall?"

My smile falls as well at the mention of my dearest friend's dream. I nod as my mouth goes dry, leaving me unable to speak. Benjen Stark seems to understand as our troubled expressions mirror one another's.

"Perhaps, you could try to convince him to wait, at the very least, before he makes a decision he won't be able to go back on," the man requests.

"Of course," I murmur. I can't admit to him that I have been trying to talk Jon out of this idea since the first moment he mentioned it when we were children. "I will do my best."

"Thank you," he says. He bows before moving aside and allowing me to pass. I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat, forcing a smile as I return to my search.

Rounding the corner, I spot Jon immediately. He swings his sword viciously at a sack used for training and I can tell just from looking at him that he is angry. Even in the dark, I can see the tension in his back and the way his hands shake with fury. Frowning in concern, I move forward again, but stop as I register a smaller person approaching me.

"My dearest niece," the sound of my favorite uncle's voice fills the night air and Jon's movement pauses mid-swing.

"Uncle Tyrion," I grin, despite my concern for Jon. "I've missed you, where have you been?"

"I was enjoying the better parts of the North," he tells me with an impish smile. "Forgive me, sweet niece. I have missed you as well."

"Ah," I shake my head in amusement. "Of course, but will you promise, at least, to attend my wedding?"

"I would not miss it for anything, Ellie," he assures. "What other reason would I have for journeying so far?"

"Thank you."

"And what are you doing out here?" he questions, eyeing my drinks. "Have you already turned to drinking to stay warm?"

"If I have?"

"Then I shall drink with you, dear," he laughs heartily. "Though, I suspect that cup is for the bastard."

"It's for Jon," I sigh. "You must know his name, Uncle."

"Yes, I was just giving him a bit of advice."

"If your advice is anything like it used to be," I say, glancing up at Jon who has turned to watch our interaction, "then he'll need both cups."

"He will need three," he laughs again. "We'll speak later, then."

I nod as he passes me and heads to the raging feast. Once he's gone, I look up at Jon and smile gently. The anger in his dark eyes softens somewhat as I approach him and offer one of the cups. He takes it gratefully, downing almost all of it in one drink. He drops the sword as I come into the stall and stand next him. Staring at the sack that's been poked full of holes, I try to push away Benjen's words. Jon is already upset, arguing with him over the Wall will not get me anywhere tonight.

"I'm sorry for my uncle," I tell him. "Whatever his advice, he means it to be kind and helpful, he just doesn't always say it quite right. He is a Lannister after all."

"His advice was… _decent_ …just unwanted." Jon says, taking another drink.

"As is all his advice," I laugh softly. "Why aren't you at the feast? Was it Lady Stark?"

Jon nods as an answer, setting the empty cup on the wooden fence he leans against. I offer him my cup and he takes it with a half-grin. I bend down to pick up his sword and hold the weapon in my hands as I move towards the sack, practicing my swing. Hitting the sack with little force, I test my stance for the strongest movement and ignore Jon's watchful eyes. When I choose an angle I can make the most damage, I use my full strength to hit it.

"Careful with your elbow," he advises.

"What am I doing with it?" I ask, halting my movement to look at him curiously.

"Sticking it out," he says. Grinning, he steps closer and grabs my arm to straighten it, "Just like you use to when you learned to shoot."

"Like this?" I try again and Jon nods in approval.

"Better, now fix your legs."

"My legs?" I scoff. "How?"

"Move with your left," he tells me. "Step with your left and swing with your right."

I do as he says and feel the force of my hit increase from the simple change. I swing several times before stopping and handing Jon his sword back.

"You'd do well in a fight, Ellie," Jon says, setting the sword against the post. "You're quick and know how to make a hit and move before you're hit back."

"I could lead an army," I joke, making Jon laugh.

"You could lead the world."

I scoff, "I would not want to."

"You'll lead Winterfell and the North," he says quietly.

"Robb will," I correct. "I will raise whatever children we have."

Jon clenches his jaw for a moment, swallowing whatever his first words are before choosing a better answer. "Father listens to and values Lady Stark's advice. Robb will listen to you even more."

"What if all I want to do is raise children?" I murmur. "What if all I want to be is a mother and let my husband do all the hard work?"

"You can want that all you like," he says, looking at me in a way I don't recognize. "But we both know you could never do such a thing. You're not meant for a life of quiet and simplicity."

"Or propriety," I add.

"Or propriety," he agrees. "That's why they sent you north. To be free from those three things."

"Amongst other things," I mutter. "If we're going to survive this _visit_ , we'll have to stick together, Jon."

"You mean if _you_ are going to survive it?" he quirks a brow.

"You would leave me to these people? Abandon me?" I feign offense with a gasp.

"Never," he swears. "Though, I'd like to remind you that these people are your family."

The sound of doors opening and boisterous laughter fills the courtyard along with firelight, cutting off my chance to respond. I immediately recognize the drunken voice of my father surrounded by giggling whores. I grab Jon's hand and pull him to the ground so we can hide behind the stall door.

"Is that the king?" Jon whispers.

"Shh," I hush him, pressing a finger against his lips as we listen to my father say stupid things to the women he'll pay for love.

"You ever been with a king?" he laughs loudly. I roll my eyes as Jon's widen in shock.

As I hear his voice grow farther, I sit up on my knees and peek over the edge as Jon does the same. We spy my father stumbling with four women, none of whom are my mother. One of the whores glances backwards and we are quick to duck down, trying to muffle our chuckles from nearly being caught.

"You ever been with a king?" I mock my father's voice. Jon struggles to silence his laughter as I mimic Father's waddle too.

"Wait, hush," Jon whispers. "Someone's coming."

We hold our breath, waiting as boots crunch over the ground. I can hear armor shifting as a man walks and then it goes silent.

"Your grace," the man greets from above us.

"Hello, Sandor," I say, peeking up at his scarred face. "Things haven't changed at all, have they?"

"Well, you're not hiding in rose bushes," he mutters.

"I'm also not going back to the feast," I tell him. "You can tell Mother I said so if you like."

"Are you sure about that, Princess?"

"Very."

The Hound nods, the slight quirk of his mouth is the only real response I get from him as he leaves Jon and I in the stall. I turn to my friend and meet his shocked expression. When we're sure he's gone, we erupt into easy laughter, though, I'm not sure what we're laughing about.

…

 _I climb the high stairs of the broken tower, curiously searching for good places to hide in my strange new home. The cold air bites my cheeks as I pull my cloak impossibly tighter. At the top of the crumbling stone, I spot a window that looks over most of Winterfell, but I'm distracted from the beauty as I see a head of dark hair looking out of it._

 _"Hello, Jon," I greet, surprising him again._

 _He fumbles to his feet as he sees me and quickly bows. "Princess," he mutters._

 _"It's Ellie," I remind him. "What are you doing?"_

 _"Nothing, I'm just…" he trails off, glancing at the window._

 _"Hiding?" I finish. "What are you hiding from?"_

 _"I'm not hiding," he argues. "What are_ you _doing?"_

 _"Hiding," I grin. "Well, looking for places to hide. I had tons in the Red Keep. The best ones you could imagine, all the guards my mother sent and none of them could ever find me."_

 _"Why do you hide?"_

 _"Why do you?"_

 _Jon looks away, uncomfortable. I walk towards him and stop in front of the window to look at the grounds and people below. Winterfell is much different than the Capitol. It's busy as all castles are, but it's not chaos. When I breathe in the cold air, I don't feel as if I'll toss my last meal from the smell. The people do not fight each other or yell in anger. They always say the northerners are out of control, that their old ways make them savage compared to others, but this place is far more civilized than any place I've ever seen._

 _"There isn't anything I want to hide from right now, but soon, I'm sure, I'll need a good place," I tell him. "Perhaps, we could share this place?"_

 _"If you like," he says with a shrug._

 _I smile and sink to the dirty floor with my back pressed against the wall and look up at Jon, waiting for him to join me. He seems torn, to sit with the princess as I expect and be improper or to ignore the princess and be improper. I smile in amusement at his obvious inner torment and wait for his decision. Eventually, he chooses to sit with me, but leaves a good amount of space between us._

 _"I hated it in the Red Keep," I admit quietly. "I hated the rules and expectations. I always felt like everything my mother ever did was to torment me. I had to be perfect, look pretty and sing pretty words. If I so much as I stepped the wrong way, I was in trouble."_

 _"So, you'd hide," Jon says._

 _"Yes, it was the only way to breathe. And then I'd find a good place, watch, and listen as all the guards ran about in search of me. Some days, I'd have to bite my tongue just to keep from laughing."_

 _"Nobody will call me bastard when I'm up here," he mutters. "That's one of the reasons I like to hide."_

 _"There are other reasons?" I press._

 _"All of them are because I'm a bastard," he says without offering any more information._

 _"Shall we make an agreement, then?"_

 _"An agreement?"_

 _"If we ever need to hide from things, we'll meet here. I won't be a princess and you won't be a bastard. At least, not while we're together at the top of the broken tower."_

 _Jon stares at me for a long time like I may be the strangest person he has ever met. I think, maybe, he won't agree to it. Perhaps, the friendship I think we could have is not one he wants. But then he nods hesitantly and smiles for the first time since I arrived. It's small, only half his mouth quirks up, but it's enough to make the tower feel a little warmer and bring a smile of my own to my lips._

 _Friendship, true friendship, is something that I have never known and I think this may be the very beginning of one._

* * *

Welcome back!

I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter and getting to see Jon and Ellie bond a little bit. Thank you so much for reading! And thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed. Again, I appreciate it so much. I hope to see a continued interest because I am really excited for this story! Next chapter, we'll see more Jon and Ellie time as well as Robb and Ellie time.

I like to respond to all the reviews so I'll reply to guests at the end of a new chapter, I hope no one minds.

To marvelmyra: Forgive the mistake, I actually went back and edited it. Thank you for the feedback and I hope to hear from you again!

Let me know what you think! All comments, questions, and suggestions are welcome! :)

-V


	5. Chapter 5

Walking with my arm looped through Robb's, we listen to my mother make any complaint she can possibly come up with. We were given a month's notice to plan the wedding while my family travelled here and what had been decided on was all perfect to me, but not to the queen. Just as everything that has ever had to do with me, my mother does not approve. It seems this day will never end and the wedding that is causing so much distress will never happen.

"It's too small, it will never fit the amount guests coming," Mother says as we stand in the Sept that Ned had built for Cat when she first moved here.

"Mother," I speak up for the first time since we began this morning. Everyone turns to me and I feel Robb's hold tighten minutely. "I told you before, I don't want to be married in the Sept. I want to be married in the godswood."

"The old gods are not who pray to, Eliana," Mother states in confusion.

"I pray to both now," I tell her. "And even if I didn't, we are in the North. The godswood is where northerners wed."

"You are not a northerner," she says sharply.

"I'm marrying one and my children will be someday," I argue. "I've lived here for six years, Mother. This is my home."

"Eliana," she begins with the telltale sigh that always precedes a scolding.

"If she wants to get married in the woods, then let the girl. It's her bloody wedding, who cares?" Father interrupts in his gruff voice. "Now, it's decided. Are we done at last?"

"No," Mother quips. "I want to see where she is to be wed if you insist on it being in the woods."

"Do what you like then, I don't need to be there and I don't see why anyone else does either," he tells her. "Ellie?"

"Yes, Father?"

"I am done wedding planning. And Cersei," he turns to his wife who stares back impassively. "If she wants something, then she shall have it. She's a princess for gods' sake. Now, Ned, join me! Robb, boy, you tend to your future wife. Perhaps, my daughter will more bearable than her mother."

With those kind words, he stalks away, muttering about the irritations of women. Ned looks at his wife apologetically, bowing to my mother before following his king. Mother raises a brow at me, but Cat offers to lead her to the godswood, saving me from answering to her. I huff as she walks away and look up at Robb in exasperation.

"I can't take this," I mutter. "There was nothing wrong with what we already had planned. She is going to ruin this wedding. Just like she ruined things when I was a child."

"It doesn't matter, Ellie," Robb says.

"Doesn't matter?" I repeat in incredulity. Anger floods through me as I pull my arm away from him and he shakes his head with a slight smile. "What are you smiling about?"

"Ellie, none of it matters. I don't care about where the wedding happens, what food we have at the feast, how many lords and ladies attend, or how many bloody candles will be used," he tells me. "The wedding is one night, it will be over and then your family will return home, and all these little things that are bothering you will be meaningless."

"This is our wedding, Robb. How could not care at all?" I demand.

"I do care," he assures. "I care about what's important. And that's not any of this, but it's when the night is over, you will be mine and I will be yours, until the end of our days. I would get married in a dungeon, in the kennels, anywhere, so long as I'm marrying you."

For a moment, I'm struck into silence. I stare into the blue eyes of the man my father chose for me sixteen years ago. I know it is not common for those that are part of an arranged marriage to be in love before they are wed. So, for the two of us, we are lucky. I knew that he loves me, that he has for years now, but I suppose I never knew how much.

"Truly?" I murmur.

Robb cups either side of my face and presses a kiss to my forehead before answering, "Truly."

"You're very charming, aren't you?" I whisper teasingly.

"Oh, very," he says with a grin.

I smile up at him as words of love fall from my lips right before he captures them with his own.

…

I gnaw on my thumb as I wait around the corner for Ned to leave my father's company. I've given up on convincing my father of foregoing the engagement between Joffrey and Sansa and I won't even try to convince him to ask another to be his Hand. My only hope is to persuade Lord Stark. He is smart and can see a bigger picture, a skill the king lacks. I cannot allow Sansa to be forced into a union with the boy that tormented me for years and every part of me screams in protest of Ned going to King's Landing. I don't know why, but I don't particularly care to find out either.

Finally, the sound of a door opening accompanied by Father's laughter reaches my ears. Soon after, Ned passes me without noticing I'm there. I rush to follow him, steeling myself for the conversation I feel responsible to have.

"Lord Stark," I call out. He stops at the sound of my voice, turning, and bowing at the sight of me. "May I speak with you?"

"Princess, of course. What is it?" he questions. I glance around to see who's near before looking back at the man I consider a second father.

"It's about my father's requests of you," I tell him. "About the marriage proposal for Sansa and naming you the Hand."

"What is it, child?" he asks curiously.

"Please don't go to King's Landing, my lord. I fear the worst will happen. Don't allow your daughter to marry my brother. Tell my father you cannot go, that you must stay in Winterfell. He may be angry at first, but you are his friend. And tomorrow, you will be family as he has wanted for many years."

"Your grace, I must, I have already agreed. I cannot go back on my word."

"You must," I plead. "There is nothing there for you, Lord Stark. I know it has been many years since I've been in the Capitol, but I know it. I know what it's like, the dangers… Please, _please_ listen to me. You don't need to go, Father will find another Hand."

"I do have reason to go," he sighs. "I assure you, Princess."

"What reason? Duty? Your duty is to Winterfell, not King's Landing. Honor? Denying the king will not dishonor you, I promise."

"Ellie –"

"I know I'm young and just a princess, but I – I know…I just know something is coming."

This seems to silence him for a moment as he considers my words. Finally, he shakes his head with a sigh.

"Winter is coming," he tells me. This time, he looks around us before whispering, "To the crypts, I don't want stray ears to hear."

He walks away without another word as I stay where I am in confusion. I didn't expect this, that he would have a secret reason for wanting to go with my father. After searching for those watching, I quickly head in the same direction. Sneaking down to the crypts, I walk through the dim candlelight until I find Ned Stark in front of his sister's tomb.

I stare at the stone statue of Lyanna Stark just as he does and notice the feather placed in the open palm.

"It's strange to me," I admit quietly, "to know my father loved someone so much, he'd start a war for them. I've always wondered about her. I've always wanted to know what she was like especially knowing that I would not be with Robb if she had never held Father's heart."

"You remind me of her," he says. "You and Arya both. As beautiful as you are wild, clever, and kinder than anyone else."

"Do you think my father would have been a good husband to her?"

"Honestly, I do not know."

"I'd like to think he would, that her death is what made him what he is now," I tell him. "I love my father. He's brave and strong, a true warrior, but he's never been a good king. He's never quite understood or maybe he just doesn't take it seriously enough to understand."

"Your father is still a good man."

"Despite his flaws, yes, I know. My lord, forgive me, but why have you brought me down here?" I ask as he finally turns to face me.

"I'm telling you this, Ellie, because I know you can be trusted with such information, but you must never repeat it. You must forgive me for asking, but you cannot even tell my son."

"You have my word, my lord." I tell him. Though, I've not told Robb of my fears or my attempts to keep his father from leaving, it's strange to me to be told to keep a secret from him. However, I know it's important so I agree anyways.

"Catelyn's sister returned to the Eyrie and sent word. She believes Jon Arryn was murdered," he tells me. "And if someone has plotted against the Hand, they may be plotting against the king as well."

"Who would murder Lord Arryn, though? He had no enemies, Lord Stark. He was beloved by the people in King's Landing."

"That's what I intend to find out," he says. "Lysa would never risk her son's safety to send a message like this if she did not believe it to be the truth."

"I don't mean any offense, my lord, but Lysa Arryn isn't exactly…" I trail off, afraid to say what I'm thinking. _She's crazy_ , I want to tell him, but she is his sister-by-law.

"I know," he sighs, "but his death _is_ suspicious. So sudden and unexplainable. It would make sense."

Uncle Jon was older, but Ned is right. He had his health and for a fever to run its course and take a life so quickly, it doesn't make sense. But who would kill him? Jon Arryn was a good man, a kind man. He was the one that kept my father from destroying the seven kingdoms he had won. I love my father, but he does not rule as he should and he relied on the older man for more than advisement. Anyone in the Red Keep, anyone close enough to be his killer, would know that without the Hand, Westeros is doomed.

What if that is the end goal, then? Murder the Hand and murder the realm with it…

"If that's true," I begin again, a new wave of desperation coursing through me, "why would you want to take his job? If someone is killing the king's Hand, then you should not be it."

"Jon Arryn was like a father to me, I owe it to him to find his killer. You loved him as well, Princess. Do you not wish the same?"

"Of course, I do, but not at your expense. Let someone else do it, please, my lord. I beg of you, stay in Winterfell. Send my father home and tell him to find another."

"Ellie, you know I cannot do that. It is my duty," he replies. I fight the urge to scream at him for his foolishness. What he believes to be his duty will get him killed, I'm beginning to believe that for certain. "It is also my duty to protect your father. If they will kill the Hand, they may intend to kill the king as well."

If they were plotting against the throne, why kill the Hand first? Why not just kill my father? Unless, the one who murdered Jon Arryn coveted his position. To be the second most powerful man in the kingdoms is a great thing and with a king like my father, it's not as if the Hand wouldn't be running the entire realm. The killer wants power and now Lord Stark intends to take that power.

"My lord –"

"Ellie," he cuts me off, "I must do this. I don't want to go to King's Landing any more than you want me to, but the right decision is not always the favorable one."

As my failure settles around me, I turn to the candle flickering closest to me. The desperation to intervene with my father's plans becomes a heavy weight, thickening my blood, and threatening to pull me to the ground now that it's all for naught. The flame flickers with my frustration and due to the information Ned has shared with me, my fear grows with each passing moment. My eyes shift to the statue of his sister and a terrible piece of history is brought forth to my mind.

The last Lord Stark that left Winterfell to go to King's Landing never came back.

…

Hiding at the top of the broken tower, my conversation with Lord Stark replays over and over in my mind. My thoughts race to figure out who could have killed Uncle Jon and who may be a threat to Ned's life as well. In the time since our conversation, my fear has grown and the feeling that Lord Arryn's death is only the beginning of something much bigger becomes stronger and stronger. Something looms in the future, a black cloud darkening the sky, and knowing that I have failed to prevent it at every turn makes tears burn in my eyes.

With my arms wrapped around my legs, I pull my knees tighter to my chest, knowing it's the only way to keep myself together. To cry over something as trivial as a bad feeling would be ridiculous. I didn't even cry over Jon Arryn's death. Yet, as I cower alone in the candlelit tower, it's all I can do to keep the tears at bay. The worst of it is that I should be happy. My wedding is tomorrow, I will finally be with Robb, I'll be a Stark by law as I've wanted for years, but nothing inside of me can cling to the joy I felt before. Not when I know that once I'm married, the company will return to King's Landing and take Ned Stark with them.

"Ugh!" I groan loudly, my frustration echoing in the silence as I let my forehead fall to my knees.

"Ellie?" A familiar voice finds me and I peek up as more candlelight floods the room, revealing Jon's concerned expression. "How long have you been up here?"

"Don't know," I mutter.

He moves to sit beside me on the dusty floor, stretching his legs in front of him. He sets the candle down and I watch the shadows dance around us as we remain in silence for several minutes. The thing about Jon is that he rarely has to say anything to me to make me feel better. His presence alone is a comfort and in six years, I still haven't been able to figure out why that is. However, tonight the most it does is dry my unshed tears and provide distraction from tumultuous thoughts.

"They're looking for you, Robb and your mother," he says quietly.

"I don't care," I sigh.

Jon nods in understanding and he lets the silence envelope us for a bit. Soon I'm resting my head on his shoulder instead of on my knees and taking all the comfort my friend has to offer. He is wise to not press for information as to why I'm hiding or what's wrong with me and I'm grateful for it. He knows me well enough to see that talking about it is not what I want, I just want silence and peace away from the chaos my family has brought to Winterfell.

The air grows colder, the flames of the few candles around flicker. When I shiver from the cool night, Jon wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer. For a moment, I relish in the feel of him beside me. I ignore the voice in my head that tries to remind me how improper and wrong this is, it's the same voice that often nags at me when I'm alone with Jon, and, unsurprisingly, it sounds a great deal like my mother's. There are times, however, when it's easier to ignore than others and this is one of those.

However, the gods do not want to grant me peace of any sort tonight as the memory of my conversation with Benjen Stark returns to the forefront of my mind.

"Jon," I murmur.

"Yes?"

"I talked to your uncle. He said you want to go to the Wall with him when he returns," I say, feeling him tense beside me. "Tell me it's not true, Jon."

His silence is all the answer I need and once again I feel tears burn in my eyes.

"You've always known I wanted to take the Black," he says quietly. "You can't be surprised."

"I've been praying that you would change your mind. You were young when you first decided to do it, I thought time would persuade you differently," I tell him, pulling away to look at him in the dim lighting.

"It hasn't, Ellie. If anything, I want to go even more now."

"Why? What about the _Wall_ is so appealing?" I demand.

"It's an honorable life to be a man of the Night's Watch," he tells me.

"Honorable, sure, but happy? Not even close! And you know most of the men there aren't there for honorable reasons, they go because it's the better of their options."

"That doesn't matter."

"It's a terrible life, it's cold and dangerous and…and lonely!"

"It's a brotherhood, it won't be lonely. And I'm not afraid, Ellie."

"Well, I am!" I argue. "Please don't go, Jon. Stay here, I'm begging you."

Jon sighs, climbing to his feet and shaking his head. "There's nothing here for me."

"Nothing!" I exclaim, my voice rising several octaves as I climb to my feet as well. "Your family, me, your life, I'm pretty sure that's not _nothing_!"

"It will only be Robb and Rickon and do you truly believe that once my father is gone Lady Stark will allow me to stay?"

"This is your home, she can't kick you out of it."

"Of course she can," he mutters. "And she will."

"No, I won't let her! I'll be Lady Stark and Robb will be the lord. There will always be a place in Winterfell for you, Jon, whether Cat likes it or not."

"I'm going, Ellie," he tells me firmly. "Father will let me."

"You're giving up your whole life!"

"No, the Night's Watch will be my life," he returns.

"That's not a life!" I shout. "It's just guarding an ice wall and fighting wildlings – if you come across any!"

"And what life would I have here? What life do you think I should have instead?" he shouts back. Our voices echo around the crumbling walls and the candles tremble, casting shadows around us.

"I don't know, a normal life? One where you marry and have children and –"

"That's not the life for me," he interrupts.

"How do you know? You haven't even given it a chance, you'll meet someone and –"

"Ellie," he cuts me off again and I glare up at him in annoyance. "There is only one girl I'd marry."

"Well, who is she?" I question in shock. He's never mentioned a girl before. "Why would you leave if there's someone you want to marry?"

"I can't marry her," Jon mutters. Suddenly, he turns away and heads toward the door.

"Jon! Where are you going?" I call after him. "Why can't you marry her?"

He stops in the doorway, but doesn't turn around.

"Because she's marrying my brother tomorrow."

With that, he leaves our hiding spot while I remain frozen in place with nothing but the echo of his words for company.

* * *

Hi again!

So what did everyone think? I hope you all enjoyed it!

There's been a request for a Jon and/or Robb POV which I'd love to do! I can do more than one, of course, in later chapters, but for the first one it was suggested to do a Jon POV during the wedding. I was thinking maybe I could do a chapter that's half Robb's and half Jon's for the wedding which should be chapter 7. Does that sound interesting? Let me know what you think and if you have any other suggestions!

Thank you so much, as always, for reading and a special thanks to those who have reviewed, favorited, and followed. I really hope everyone continues to enjoy the story. Please tell me what you think of the chapters and if there are any questions, comments, suggestions, etc.

Hope to hear from you soon. Enjoy!

-V


	6. Chapter 6

The sky has long since grown black and the air has turned sharp in the cold as I finally leave the broken tower. I wander back to my chambers slowly, careful to avoid most of the lingering eyes. I make it inside the castle before I'm stopped, the large figure looming in my way offering me the slightest distraction from the fog that has enveloped my mind. I glance up at Sandor, his solemn expression mirroring my own.

"Mother's been looking for me, I know," I mutter before he has the chance. "Tell her I've gone to bed. I can't talk to her right now."

The large man stares down at me, confusion and curiosity battling against his impassive appearance, but he nods in understanding. I pass him in silence, reaching my room at last, and the wooden door slams loud in the otherwise silent hall while the lock sliding into place echoes around me. A fire already burns in the hearth for me and candles are lit so I can see, shadows cast against the stone walls as my eyes land on the white intrusion laying on my bed.

I approach it slowly as if it's an animal resting and one wrong move will startle it into attack-mode. My fingers reach out to trail across the soft fabric as I peer down at it. It's white as snow, delicate as a snowflake, but thick enough to be worn in the cold, northern air. There's lace over the sleeves and the train and a beautiful white fur to keep me warm. I realize the uneven embroidering beneath my fingers is the detailed design of flowers. Upon closer examination, I find they are wildflowers.

It's nothing like I imagined my mother would have had made for me, but I know she is responsible for it. This must be why she was looking for me earlier, to give me my wedding dress. I settle on the edge of my bed, unable to stop touching my new gown, as I think about tomorrow. Mother never cared about a thing I wanted, not since I was a girl, and even as we planned the ceremony, my opinion meant little to her. Yet, this is something I would love. This is something I do love.

But soon my thoughts drift from the details of my wedding to the actual event. Tomorrow night, I will walk through the godswood and stop before Robb. I will promise myself to him and only him for the rest of my life and he will do the same to me. I will give up my Baratheon name and take Stark instead. I will be the Lady of Winterfell and not the oldest princess of King Robert. I'll have the husband I love and, in time, the family I've always wanted.

All my dreams as a child, to be loved and free, coming true, so why do I feel so sick?

An image of Jon comes to mind and I begin to realize nothing can ever come so simple.

…

"You must eat, my darling," Mother tells me as I pick at my bacon. "You didn't eat supper last night."

"I'm not hungry," I mutter.

"I wasn't hungry on my wedding day either," she says. My eyes find hers staring back at me and I withhold my sigh of exhaustion. "I didn't sleep much the night before or breathe really."

"It feels like a horse is sitting on my chest," I admit.

"It's normal, my love. Is it the wedding that's causing your nerves or the duties that come with it?" she questions.

"Duties?" I ask before it dons on me that she's talking about _tonight_. "Oh…I haven't really been thinking of that."

"Do you understand what you must do?"

"Of course, I'm not a child, Mother," I quip.

"I imagine Lady Stark explained many things to you in my absence."

"I am her ward, she acted as a mother when I needed one."

"She let you run wild, Lord Stark did as well. I've talked to your handmaiden, she has told me many stories."

"You make it sound as if I'm bad. Just because I have fun in ways you don't approve of doesn't mean I'm not good. I know how to behave and when I am supposed to," I snap.

Mother raises an eyebrow in surprise at my outburst. "I never said you were bad, Eliana."

"Haven't you?" I retort.

"I know you hate me, Ellie," she sighs, "but everything I've tried to teach you was for your own good. My intention has never been to hurt you or make you feel like you're not good. It was to prepare you for a dangerous world, one where women must keep their strengths to themselves if they ever intend to use them. Someday, you will understand the lessons I've tried to give you."

Staring at my mother in confusion, I try to find the usefulness of any interaction I've had with her in the past, but I come up short. I can't see how yelling at me and punishing me for all the things that she did could ever be considered teaching moments. My already frayed nerves fizzle in frustration with her and the knot in my stomach tightens infinitely. I shove away from the table and stand, ready to abandon my uneaten meal and her.

"I'm going for a walk, I need some air," I tell her as I turn away and head towards the door.

"Please remember you're getting married at sundown, come back soon to get ready," she says softly.

I pause in the doorway, glancing behind me for just a moment as I nod in response to her request. "I will."

…

Deep within the godswood, I sit in a meadow, picking at flowers that will always bloom, even in the frost. My earlier conversation with my mother has taken its place repeating in my mind, distracting me from what happened with Jon the night before. She swears that everything that ever happened in the Red Keep were all lessons, but I don't believe that. It just doesn't make sense.

I often forgot my courtesies, sure, but that's the only thing I can understand her correcting. I liked to play as a child, I ran around, I played games, I got dirty, but isn't that what you're supposed to do? Lord and Lady Stark never stopped their children or me from having fun. We had to clean up for supper, but a little dirt on my dress was never cause for punishment. I wanted to go riding, learn how to shoot an arrow, and hold a sword. Mother never let me, but the Starks were more than willing to teach me just as Arya was taught when she wanted to learn. I couldn't give my opinion, I wasn't supposed to argue anything, speak when spoken to and all that, but in Winterfell, those constraints were lifted.

Mother is full of it anyways. It's not as if those were the only things she put a stop to. Once, I caught Joffrey pulling the feathers off a living bird whose wing I'm pretty sure he broke. I shoved him away and took the bird to my chambers where I tried to nurse it back to health, but when she found out, the bird was disposed of and I was confined to my quarters for the next day. All because I tried to help an animal my brother injured.

What is the lesson there? Let the future king do whatever he likes and not care who or what gets hurt in the process? It's ridiculous.

No, I can't see the lessons Mother has ever tried teaching me. I only remember being taught that I am a princess and above all others – something I've never quite agreed with – except for my little brother. If that's what I'm supposed to understand, then I have no interest in giving it any more thought. Yet, I _want_ to believe her. I want to believe that she tormented me with rules and punishments because she loved me and had my best interest in mind. I want to believe I've been wrong all these years, but then I compare her to Lady Cat and wonder how her efforts and love can be so clear while Mother's are so blurry.

Groaning, I fall backwards to lay in the grass as I close my eyes in hopes that it will ease the pain throbbing in my temples.

…

"What are you doing, Ellie?" Sansa's voice interrupts the silence of the godswood. I open my eyes to find the young redhead with her wolf, Lady.

"Trying to stay calm," I tell her. "My nerves are getting to me."

"I didn't think you'd be nervous to marry my brother," she says, watching me with a curious expression as I sit up and pick the grass from my hair.

"Nor did I," I mutter. "I wasn't before."

"What changed then?" she asks.

I don't respond at first, knowing that I can't really tell her the truth. I can't say that it's caused by her half-brother and his feelings. I can't tell her that our conversation brought my feelings to the surface despite how hard I've worked in the past years to keep them buried beneath. Jon has always meant the world to me. We've been friends since the beginning and shared a mutual understanding of each other that I don't even have with Robb. So, it's not surprising that I liked him more than I should, but I have always known that nothing could ever come of it. I belong to Robb and, even if I didn't, we could never be together.

We can ignore the truth all we like, but I will always be a princess and he will always be a bastard.

I knew, even as a child, I knew the dangers that came with the way my heart latched onto Jon first. I learned early on how to disguise any feelings that were more than friendship and I think I could just because I valued that friendship so much. It's not as if loving Robb was hard, I fell for him just as easily – once we overcame the nervousness that came with being betrothed at such a young age. It makes it easy to hide the love for one if you feel the same love for another. Easy, but I never knew of Jon's feelings for me.

Robb loves me, I've known that as long as I've known I loved him. Yet, with Jon, I never suspected he cared for me more than a friend or even as a sister as his younger siblings do. Learning the truth should do nothing, it should mean nothing, especially on the day of my wedding. It doesn't change the love I have for my intended or lessen the happiness I know will come with our marriage. It cannot change anything.

But it _can_ break my heart.

"It became real," I tell Sansa instead as I climb to my feet, "but just because I'm nervous doesn't mean I'm not excited as well."

"I think you're perfect for each other," she comments, a sweet smile gracing her lips. "I want to have what you have."

"I want that for you too," I say, forcing a smile, and praying to the gods that my brother will grow up enough to be able to give her the love that Robb gives me.

…

After Sansa and I leave the godswood together, I intend to return to my chambers or to Mother's, but I find myself going to the broken tower instead. I'm not sure if I hope to find Jon at the top or find solitary, but my feet ascend steps without a care. However, I find neither when the sound of another on the steps reaches my ears. Looking up, I see my mother coming towards me. Her look of shock quickly morphs into a fake smile, leaving me utterly confused.

"What are you doing in here?" I demand, my tone harsher than I mean, but the feeling of Jon and my spot being invaded settles on my skin uncomfortably.

"Looking for you," she says, her voice echoing off the damaged walls.

"Why would you think I'm here?" I question suspiciously.

"Because you _are_ here." She tells me, quickly silencing me as I go to reply, "Come, it's time to get ready for the wedding, love."

She begins to guide me back down the steps even as I try to turn away. And, despite my confusion, I soon find myself back in my room and surrounded by handmaidens. I'm bathed and pampered which should be enjoyable, but I can't seem to let go of my sadness. Mother sits beside me the entire time, watching closely. However, surprisingly, she doesn't ask any questions. She doesn't ask why I went to the broken tower or why there was grass and dirt tangled in my hair. She just commands the women around us while I remain silent.

My hair is done carefully and, thankfully, the style is rather simple. There are two small braids that start in the front and connect in the back while the rest of my dark hair falls in natural waves down my back and tiny white blossoms are placed throughout. It's far from a southern hairstyle and I'm surprised Mother approves of it, but I had told her it's what I wanted and she ordered her handmaiden to do it for me.

"Your husband-to-be and your father are in agreement that there will be no bedding ceremony," Mother comments off-handedly.

I feel a faint smile come to my lips as I imagine the anger that might consume Robb from the silly tradition and I'm more than relieved that I won't have to endure it tonight.

Soon, I'm dressed in my wedding gown. The fine fabric caresses my skin as I'm adorned in compliments, but I barely hear them. Staring into the small mirror, my blue eyes are reflected back at me, reminding me of the ache still in my chest. I return to my seat as I vaguely hear my mother dismiss the women in my chambers. They leave with curtsies just as she sits beside me once again.

"I don't think I'll forgive your father for sending you away from me," Mother says suddenly. "I hated him for it and it's rare for me to agree with him, but perhaps, for once, he made the right decision."

I glance up at my mother in surprise and she smiles slightly.

"The happiness I see in you here, it was never there in King's Landing. You truly have blossomed and I'm only sad that I didn't get to see it happen," she admits. "So, tell me, Ellie, why do I not see that happiness now?"

"I'm just nervous," I mumble, looking away from her relentless gaze.

"There's more to it, Eliana. Tell me."

Mother's hand reaches out to cover my own and her gentleness leaves me to suddenly feel like a child. Though I don't remember it, there must have been a time, a moment even, when it was my mother's comfort that I craved more than anything. There has never been a child that didn't seek a mother's love and I realize now that sixteen years does not make me grown. I am still a little girl and I feel the desire to be held by my mother just as a babe does.

"I love Robb," I whisper without doubt, but my voice trembles as I continue. "B-but…I-I…"

"You love another," Mother finishes. "The bastard?"

My eyes fly up to meet hers and the question of how she knows dies on my lips as I see the knowing look clear in the green looking back at me. The shock remains even as I realize Sandor must have told her who I was with the night of the feast. There aren't many others males around my age I pay attention to – just Theon, but I'd sooner love a rat than him. Jon, of course, is the only other person I spend as much time with as Robb and that's not a secret so it shouldn't be so surprising that she knows.

"Jon," I murmur the correction. "Please don't be angry. I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't and I know I can't. You don't have to say it."

"Ellie," she sighs sadly, "we do not get to choose who we love."

"No," I agree.

"You are lucky, Eliana. To love the man your father has chosen for you before you marry is something most girls do not get, but I understand that doesn't make it hurt any less."

"I've tried," I tell her. "I've tried to stop it –"

"Love is not so easily stopped," she finishes for me again.

"I was doing all right, pretending," I say. "But then he told me…when I tried to convince him to stay, he said…"

Tears fill my eyes as I remember last night in the tower.

"Will you allow me to give you advice?" she asks for the first time. I nod hesitantly, worried slightly at what she might say.

"Your love for Jon Snow causes you pain. This may be the first time love has hurt you, but, unfortunately, it will not be the last. So, my sweet daughter, my advice to you is keep your heart close. The more you love, the weaker you are, and we must be strong."

A hundred questions come to mind. When will love hurt me again? How does love make you weak? Why must we be strong? However, only one word manages to fall from my lips, like it has broken from another question and shattered on the floor.

"How?"

"Do what I taught you as a child."

…

The moment has come.

The fire crackles in front of me, shaking as I do. My tears are dried. My hair done, my dress adorned. Father waits outside the door, his knock is like a bell, ringing as an announcement of my wedding. He will escort me to the godswood and hand me over to Robb.

"Come in," I call out in the silence of my chambers.

I keep my eyes trained on the flames as the door opens and he makes his way inside.

"My wildflower," his voice fills the room. "You are the most beautiful girl in the seven kingdoms."

He takes the seat Mother had vacated not long ago and I finally look at him. He is red-cheeked and gruff as usual, but he doesn't reek of wine as he did yesterday or the day before. He wears his crown and his most regal clothes for the occasion. I am distracted from his appearance, however, by the long, wooden box now resting on his legs.

"A gift," he tells me. "One that's best not be seen by your mother."

Raising a curious brow, I watch as he pulls the cover off and sets it on the floor. In the firelight, I see the silver pommel first as Father lifts the scabbard out and shows me. With a hand wrapped around the grip, the ring of metal sounds as he removes the sword and shows me the shining blade. My eyes widen in shock as he hands it to me and I hold it on flattened palms.

"It's beautiful," I whisper as I examine the intricacy of it. The pommel, I realize, is a silver direwolf while the grip is decorated with crowned stags.

"For my grandson," he says. "He'll be a warrior, I know it."

It's heavy, the steel is expensive, and the handle even more so. The idea that I will someday have a son delights the most girlish parts of me, but the idea that he will wield a sword twists my stomach.

"Baratheon and Stark blood…the best of the kingdoms." Father continues, his voice suddenly pinched. I tear my eyes away from the present to look at him. "In another life, you would be cousins."

"A life in which you were happy, Father?"

Our eyes meet, the same shade of blue, but his are aged and dreary. My father once loved someone so much that he killed every man who stood in between them and caved in the chest of the man who stole her. His love did not make him weak, but without war, I'm not sure where his strength has gone. His heartbreak, the tragedy of Lyanna Stark, without it in the history, I would not be here. Without the pain that dulls his eyes, I would not know love as strong as he once knew.

Unsettled, I glance away, my gaze finding the silver wolf. I assume, in the silence the envelopes us, Father has no intention of answering. So, I am surprised when his gruff voice interrupts the calm.

"Aye."

The little girl in me, the same one that needed my mother so much earlier, is disappointed. To know that he has never been happy in my life, in Joffrey's, or Myrcella and Tommen's. If even his children could not heal the hurt within him, for only a moment, then perhaps it was his love I should have been questioning all these years instead of Mother's.

"But it will be a life in which you are happy," he adds, rather certainly.

I look from him to the sword in my hand while another strange feeling of foreboding fills me. I pray this sword never sees battle, not so long as one of my future children holds it, but a quiet voice in my head gives a cryptic warning that I don't yet understand.

Shoving those thoughts away, I take a deep breath and think of the future I was promised.

"Yes," I agree. "It will."

* * *

Next chapter, the wedding! Definitely will have Jon's POV and maybe another, but I haven't finished it yet.

Thank you so much, as always, for reading! And special thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed!

I really hope everyone liked this chapter. I'm curious to see what everyone thinks about Cersei and Robert here. Please let me know what you think, it's always very encouraging to hear from people. Also, if anyone has questions, I'd love to answer them, or suggestions for the next chapter, let me know!

Thank you again,

-V :)


	7. Chapter 7

Jon's POV

I have tried hard my entire life to not be jealous of my brother, but it has always been no use. I will always envy Robb for all the things he has that I never will. A family name, a mother, a place in Winterfell.

And Ellie.

I wasn't jealous at first. Why would I be? We were children, but he was told from the time that we were little he would eventually marry the princess. He never had a choice in it and the assumption was that he wouldn't know what she looked like or acted like until they came of age and met right before the wedding. So, there was this fear that she would be the worst person in the world and Robb would have to love her anyways. His betrothal was the one thing I didn't need to envy.

But then she got here.

Robb wasn't particularly excited when Father told him the princess was coming to live with us six years ago, and all the things they were doing around the castle to prepare for her arrival wasn't encouraging. He was worried she would be a snob and demand her every whim be catered to. I thought it was hilarious picturing my half-brother being forced to tend to a ten-year-old girl. And maybe a small piece of me was slightly happy that not everything was completely perfect for him or happy because I finally had something for him to envy – freedom.

I felt that way until the moment she climbed out of the wheelhouse and I saw her for the first time. She was beautiful, that was no question, but there was something else about her. I remember, she trembled with fear as she approached us, she stuttered through words that were rehearsed, turned pink in embarrassment, and nearly cried in shame, but then I saw the look in her eyes. There was a wildness in the deep blue, something that didn't go with her pretty dress and perfect words.

Then, when she came into the stables later and I spoke with her for the first time, I realized everything was going to change because she looked at me like we were equals. She said I was just Jon and she was just Ellie and she meant that.

It was stupid, I know, but I was a boy and I felt happy around her. It was my own fault, spending all that time with her, falling in love before I knew what it meant. It was so sudden, one day I thought I had something Robb wanted and the next, I had nothing of the sort. And since then, I've been forced to watch as he continued to have a life I'll never get with a girl I would do anything for, including pretending that my feelings for her were no more than what I feel for my sisters.

I made a mistake, though. I shouldn't have told her. I should have just let her be angry with me for joining the Night's Watch. Our argument would have been over by morning, she wouldn't still be upset, and I wouldn't be afraid to look her or my brother in the eye. It could have been the same as any fight we ever had, some yelling now, but the next day we'd return to laughter. However, I made that impossible. I admitted to something that should have remained a secret forever and there's nothing that can take it back.

I had hoped, for the first time, that Lady Stark would exclude me. I didn't want to watch Ellie marry my brother, but Robb insisted I not only be there, but be at the front with the rest of his family. So, I'm forced to stand in the front row and pretend to be happy for the couple when all I really want is to take his place.

Arya stands on one side of me while Bran stands on the other. They both seem curious and a little bored, but they behave nonetheless. I catch Sansa and the prince staring at each other and a wave of irritation runs through me when I see Joffrey smirking at my sister. Lady Stark seems to notice this as well, her frown showing how unsupportive she is of their future union. She doesn't look at me, but I follow her gaze to Robb and Father who stand in front of the heart tree, waiting.

Father looks serious as always, but Robb looks nervous. I can tell he's trying to not show it, but his constant shifting as we wait for the king to escort Ellie to him makes it easy to tell. He gazes down the pathway lined with lanterns and, despite how anxious he seems, he looks happy. He doesn't seem to notice all the people gathered to witness the wedding, he doesn't care about anything, but who he is marrying. And, suddenly, the quiet murmuring of the crowd goes silent and Robb's eyes widen as he smiles. I turn to where the attention has been shifted and see _her_.

She walks with her father slowly, her arm hooked around his. The white dress glows in the lantern light and trails behind her in the grass. The godswood is swallowed in silence as no one is able to tear their eyes away from Ellie. They sing songs of girls half as pretty as her, but I'm not sure anyone could ever truly describe the princess. Her long hair, her blue eyes, the smile that could weaken an army if they saw it. She's so beautiful, I've wondered for years if she is actually real, but she passes me and stops in front of Robb, and I know she is.

Ellie only gazes at her intended, her eyes never search the crowd, her arm never tightens on her Father's, the sweet smile never falters. She's radiant in front of the gods and the North, so bright I have to look away. My eyes land on the queen who is already looking at me. Her forehead creases momentarily and then she returns her attention to her daughter.

"Who comes before the old gods this night?" Father's voice fills the woods, forcing me to also turn back to the ceremony.

"The Princess Eliana," King Robert's voice booms in reply, "of the House Baratheon, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Robb steps forward, eyes trained only on Ellie as he answers, "Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

"Princess Eliana," Father addresses her and her eyes finally shift away from Robb's. "Do you take this man?"

Ellie turns back to Robb, smiling even more, and says without hesitation, "I take this man."

I remember the first time I got hit in the chest so hard that it knocked me off my feet, all the air came out of my lungs in one swift movement. And for the brief moments it took for me to catch my breath, the pain and darkness that comes with the feeling of suffocating was terrifying. Hearing those words, listening to Ellie promise herself to my brother, is like that feeling, the pain and uncertainty, but without the terror because there's nothing to fear. It's over, any dream I could ever had. Even knowing they would never come true, it doesn't change how it feels when the possibility is completely lost.

Ellie removes her arm from the king's and takes Robb's hand as they move forward together towards the heart tree. They kneel before it and bow their heads, rising together in silent prayer. After the prayer is over, Father tells Robb to remove Ellie's maiden cloak. He does and replaces it with the bride's cloak and then it's over. She is no longer just Ellie and he is not just Robb, they are man and wife. And I'm in love with my half-brother's wife.

I feel the tears hot in my eyes, but I push them back. I push them back because I see her expression. I see a smile that I've never known before, a new brightness in those blue eyes, a happiness that I know she has been waiting for and she's finally got it. And as much as I want to hate it, hate her, hate him, curse all of this, I can't. I love her and I love him and they love each other.

I have to be happy for them.

…

Ellie's POV

The feast roars around us, but all I notice is Robb. His hand on mine, his voice whispering in my ear, his smile, his laugh, him. Father has toasted us, the lords and ladies have sung, cheered, and congratulated us. Everyone already addresses me as Lady Stark, Robb insists on repeating it every few minutes. Every time he does, my heart beats a little faster and the warmth I feel in my chest spreads throughout my body.

I feel like it's just the two of us in Winterfell. As if the Great Hall is empty and no one sits at the table with us. No one is watching, no one can see us, and no can interrupt what I believe might be a dream. I've never felt so happy, I've never known this floating feeling.

"Are you happy?" I ask suddenly, but Robb is unfazed.

"I've never been happier," he says and I believe him. "You're my wife. That's all I wanted."

"How much longer do we have to stay here?"

"It's our wedding feast," he tells me, "I think we can leave whenever we like."

"I'm ready when you are, my love."

He swallows, nervously I think, before smiling once more. He stands, taking my hand, and together we leave the dining hall. The people behind us call out, cheering, but I can't hear them. I don't hear anything but my own heart as Robb guides me to the chambers we will now share. The hall stretches out before us, but it takes only moments it seems for us to reach the wooden door. I look to my husband as he slowly pushes it open and then he turns me.

"After you, Lady Stark."

I giggle at him slightly, the bubbly feeling in my chest making it hard to breathe, but excitement is there with the nerves as I think about what is going to happen next. I release his hand as I enter the room and I see it's filled with dozens of candles. There's a small table with a vase of flowers and the bed seems much bigger than the one I had before. I stop in front of the fire burning in the hearth and finally turn back towards Robb.

He offers me a small, yellow flower just like the one he plucked from the grass in the godswood once. I take it from him, twisting the stem between my fingers.

"Have I finally caught you?" he asks. The memory of one of our first moments together comes to mind and I laugh softly.

"You caught me a long time ago, Robb. You didn't know?"

"I had no idea," he tells me.

"Silly man," I tease. "I love you."

Robb steps closer, one hand finding my waist while the other cups my cheek. I close my eyes as his lips claim mine in a gentle kiss. "I love you, too."

He kisses me again, this time deeper. He pulls me until I'm flush against his chest while my hand not holding the flower moves to his hair. My fingers thread through his auburn curls as my lips part for his tongue. It feels different than normal, this kiss, a passion blooming within me that's never been there before. The fluttering feeling still tickles my belly and my heart still races in my chest, but there's a new need that has me tightening my grip on Robb's hair and trying to get even closer.

All too soon, he's pulling away, but the look he gives me warms me to the core. Silently, he begins to pick the flowers from my hair and places them on the table near us. Then, he pulls the pins out so my braids fall apart gently, joining the rest of the waves falling down my back. He moves again and starts to remove his boots and I follow suit. I unlatch my cloak as well and lay it over a chair before dropping my yellow flower near the vase on the table. He unlatches his cloak too while I realize I can't remove anything else without help.

That's when the nerves suddenly become too much. I hadn't been giving this part much thought. I was so preoccupied with my family and my frustrations and then my sadness, I truly hadn't considered the wedding _night_. I know what I'm supposed to do, but I'm suddenly frozen. I watch Robb remove his doublet, leaving him in breeches and a tunic. It occurs to me that I'm about to see him naked and that thought leaves my cheeks hot as the fire. I look away quickly, mortified, and stare down at the ground as I try to steel myself for what's to come.

I feel him approach, but I can't find the courage to look at him. Robb's finger lifts my chin gently, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Are you okay, Ellie?"

"I-I need help," I whisper.

Robb smiles softly before moving around me. He begins to unlace my bodice, his touch sending shivers through me even through the thick fabric of my wedding gown. It seems like it takes a long time and my heart beats so fast, I think it will fall out of my chest, but then he's finished. He moves back in front of me as I slip the dress off my shoulders and let it pool at my feet. I'm left in only my shift and Robb begins to remove his tunic. My eyes widen as the skin of his belly and chest comes into sight and my cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink.

I step out of my gown which brings me closer to my husband and I have to tear my eyes away from the muscles of his abdomen. Robb cups my cheek again with his rough palm before letting it trail down my neck and trace my collar bone. Then he hooks his fingers on the straps of my shift and my hands immediately reach out to his chest, halting his movements. Staring at him wide-eyed, he gives me an understanding look.

"If you're not ready –"

"I'm ready!" I interrupt quickly, my eagerness only embarrassing me further. Robb's responding grin, however, seems to ease my heart. "I'm just…nervous."

I realize I'm touching his bare skin and my fingers flex on their own accord.

"I am too," he admits.

Knowing he feels as nervous as I do makes me feel better and I'm no longer frozen in place as he pulls me closer and presses a firm kiss to my lips. With new confidence, my fingers trail down his chest and trace over his firm muscles. My hand runs over the small path of hair until it stops at the laces of his breeches and he pulls away. More purposeful now, Robb once again takes hold of the straps of my shift and I help to remove my arms so he can shove it down my body.

As his eyes move over every part of me, I blush harder than ever before, but it doesn't matter. The embarrassment is meaningless because the look in his blue eyes makes the fluttering feeling in my belly increase and warms in a way I don't recognize. There's a desire inside of me that coils every muscle and when Robb pulls me close again and kisses me more forcefully than ever before, I'm overcome by it.

Soon, he's sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to our bed.

…

 _"Are you praying, your grace?" Robb's voice interrupts the silence of the godswood._

 _I turn to look at my intended who's watching me with nervous eyes, but smiling kindly as well._

 _"No, I was just admiring the heart tree. It's quite pretty," I tell him. "I've never seen a tree god. They cut them all down a long time ago in the Capitol."_

 _"Only northerners pray to the old gods I think, Princess."_

 _"Call me Ellie," I say. "We are going to be married someday."_

 _Robb's cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he looks away for a moment, "I know," he murmurs. "That's why I'm here. I've come to win your affection."_

 _"Win my affection?" I laugh. "What do you mean?"_

 _"Mother says I need to win your affection before we wed."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"I don't know," he says with a shrug._

 _"Do you mean like they do in the stories? The knights and ladies?"_

 _"I guess." He moves closer and holds up a small, yellow flower. "I picked it for you. Lord Arryn said you liked flowers."_

 _"I do," I say, taking the small bud. I twist the short stem between my fingers and smile brightly._

 _"I thought that would be a good way to start," he tells me. "But I've never read those stories so I don't know what else to do."_

 _I consider the boy in front of me for a moment, noting not for the first time how handsome he is. Someday, I imagine we'll stand in this very spot and get married, but that time seems so far from now. Mother never said that my betrothed would try to win my love, she never said Robb Stark_ would _love me. Yet, the eleven-year-old has found me just to do that._

 _My smile grows mischievous as an idea occurs to me._

 _"Thank you for the flower," I murmur, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek._

 _"Y-you're welcome," he stutters with reddened cheeks._

 _"But if you want to win my affection, you'll have to catch me first!" I spin around and take off, running further into the godswood. Laughing, I turn back and call to him, "Come on, Robb!"_

 _I hear his laughter as he starts running too._

* * *

Hello again!

So, this chapter was a little harder to write than I anticipated. I really struggled with Ellie and Robb's first night together. I intended to make it a lot more detailed and longer, but it just wasn't coming out right. I hope no one is too disappointed with it! Please let me know what you think! I really love to hear feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome! Also, if there are any questions or suggestions, I'd love to hear them as well!

Thank you so much for reading and special thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed. I appreciate you all so much!

See you soon,

-V :)


	8. Chapter 8

Waking up in someone's arms for the first time is very strange. As consciousness found me once more, my eyes opened to the unfamiliar room and the feeling of being held against something warm immediately triggered panic. However, last night comes to mind and my heart slowed again as I relax into my new husband's embrace.

I fell asleep easily last night after we made love for the first time. It wasn't exactly what I expected. I was prepared for the pain, though I didn't think I'd be as sore as I am now, but I wasn't anticipating the pleasure that came with it. I know, of course, that women enjoy sex too, but not the first time. I know Robb has never been with another woman, but surely someone told him what to do because he was quite good. Especially when the pressure built inside of me.

Thinking about it makes my cheeks hot once again and I shift closer to the naked man beside me. He seemed to enjoy it even more than I did. Though, he was concentrating quite hard on something. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I'm looking forward to tonight already so we can do it again. The prospect of it feeling even better the second time has me even more excited.

Robb's arm around my waist tightens slightly as he comes to. "Good morning, my wife," he murmurs, breath warm against my ear.

"Good morning, my husband," I say. I turn over so I'm facing him and he smiles down at me sleepily. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than I ever have before," he tells me before his lips capture mine. The kiss deepens naturally until a knock on the door interrupts.

I pull away, happy to see that Robb is just as disappointed as I feel. He tells the person to come in and a servant brings in breakfast on a tray. She places it on the small table and leaves silently.

"Shall we eat?" I ask.

"No."

"No?"

"I've got a much better idea," he murmurs, kissing me again.

…

Despite my protests, Robb had to go on a hunt with my father, Ned, and many other men. To be honest, I'd be more than happy to just stay in our shared chambers for the rest of my days, but that's not possible. So, I wander the castle looking for my mother so we can spend some time together before she leaves.

She still isn't my favorite person and I still don't understand what she's been trying to teach me all my life, but, for the first time yesterday, I didn't doubt her love. I felt it as she comforted me by simply speaking the truth. She treated me like an adult, didn't act like I was improper or wrong, and she never dismissed the way I felt. I still can't wrap my head around the idea that love makes you weak, but perhaps she'll offer more insight today.

However, I cannot find her.

I've searched up and down the halls, in her chambers, my siblings' chambers, the great hall, the sept, the godswood, but she's nowhere to be found. Deciding to give up, I head, instead, to find my mother-by-law. Lady Cat is easy to find and she's more than happy to have my company. We sit together, sipping tea and eating cakes, talking of the things I'll experience as a wife now.

"May I ask you something?" I ask after there's a lull in the conversation.

"Of course, dear."

"Do you think everything that my mother has ever done was to teach me? All the times I got in trouble when my brother didn't or all the things I was forbidden to do, could it all be lessons?"

"Your mother loves you, that can never be questioned," Lady Cat tells me. "Love can be showed in many different ways. Your child's best interest is always what you seek as a mother so, I imagine, anything she did was to help you. She would never want to hurt you."

"But…the things that she claims to be lessons don't make any sense to me. There are things that couldn't possibly be for my benefit." I argue, but Cat shakes her head slightly.

"I cannot speak for the queen, but I can speak as a mother. Her help may not seem useful to you now or ever, but it _is_ supposed to help."

I consider her words while I drink my tea in silence. It does make sense, just because I don't see the lesson doesn't mean she wasn't teaching one. While, there's never been a moment before yesterday that I felt like she was trying to be there for me, perhaps I was just blind to it as a child. Perhaps, I was so trapped in the idea that I was being denied what I wanted, I disliked my own mother simply because I was a spoiled brat. Maybe the suffering I think I endured, the caged feeling, the struggles of a royal prisoner, were all dramatic childish ideas.

I can't justify her favoring Joffrey and allowing him to do whatever he liked, but maybe most of it was all in my head.

"She thinks I hate her," I say quietly. "But I don't."

"Perhaps, you should tell her that."

I nod in agreement and sigh. "It's all very confusing – growing up, I mean."

Cat's soft laughter surrounds us. "Someday, soon if you're lucky, you will have children. You'll have sons and daughters and you will struggle to teach them so they are ready to grow up as well."

"And it will make more sense then?"

"No," she says with a teasing smile. "I don't know if it ever makes sense."

"That's not very comforting," I scoff, but it soon turns to laughter.

The conversation turns to lighter things as we discuss motherhood and how many children Robb and I could have and the names to use for each of them. It's all nice and fun until a scream rings throughout the air. It's loud enough to reach us even in here and when I turn to Lady Cat in question, I see her face has paled like she's seen a ghost.

"That's Bran!" she nearly shouts, jumping up from her seat and taking off in a run.

I quickly set my tea down and run after her. As soon as I'm outside, another scream pierces the air, this one makes my blood run cold. I run as fast as I can, catching up with Cat easily as she leads us to the source of the sounds. The broken tower comes into sight as well as a small crowd gathered at the bottom. At the sight of us, a small path is created, but I stop short from what I see.

Lying there, on the ground beneath the tower he loves to climb so much, is Bran. Everything inside of me seems to stop, time stands still, and panic threatens to choke me as I look at the small boy I've come to love as my own brother. His legs are skewed in unnatural positions and there's blood pooling beneath him and he isn't moving at all.

Noise invades my ears, Catelyn's screams and sobs, I realize. Others gather around, their voices all bleeding together to make one loud buzz. I tear my eyes away from the boy and gaze up at the tower. My eyes trace the path I've seen him take a hundred times before and never once did his foot slip. Again, my gaze shifts to the source of a whining sound. Bran's nameless wolf howls in pain for his silent master.

This seems to trigger something in me and everything come crashing back once more.

I turn to the person closet to me, I know his name, but I can't think of it at this moment. "Get Maester Luwin, tell him Bran has fallen," I order.

"Yes, milady." The man runs off and I turn to another.

"Send word to Lord Stark and my husband. Tell them they must return immediately.

"Yes, Lady Stark."

"Did Jon Snow go on the hunt?" I ask a woman near me.

"I don't know, milady."

"Look for him," I command.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards Bran and Cat, telling myself that I must stay calm because she cannot. The closer I get, though, the more I see of his injuries and tears begin to burn in my eyes.

"It will be okay," I whisper.

But I'm not sure if I even believe that.

…

By the time Lord Stark has burst through the door of the sickroom, everything that can be done for Bran has happened. We moved quickly, Maester Luwin, Septa Mordane, and I, to set his bones and stop his bleeding. The maester wouldn't allow Catelyn to help because she was so inconsolable. The only thing that washed out her sobs was the sickening sound of bones being forced back into place. I didn't do much to help them, but I did enough to scar me for the rest of my days.

As I step back to allow Ned near his son, whatever calmness I had managed to hold for so long dissipates. I realize Bran's blood stains my hands and it was his fragile body that was so mangled. Tears burn my eyes again and I rush to a basin of water to scrub the crimson away. It colors the fresh water yet still tints my hands. I begin to tremble; my hands had been steady as I took orders from Maester Luwin. I had been strong, but now…

"My lady," Septa Mordane's soft voice interrupts that thought. "Shall we go speak to the others?"

Turning to the older woman, I realize her expectation. I am Lady Stark, maybe not _the_ Lady Stark, but since she is preoccupied and Lord Stark is trying comfort her, I'm the only one left to offer an explanation. The others must be waiting not far outside the sickroom, worried beyond belief. If I go out there just as worried, there will be no hope for comfort.

I dry my shaking hands, willing myself to find that calm I had held onto earlier.

"Yes," I agree quietly. "Let's find them."

Septa leads me to where many are gathered waiting. I focus on my breathing, trying to bottle the emotions so I can be strong for the others. However, the moment we reach the room, Robb rushes towards me. His face stricken with fear for his brother even as he pulls me to his chest. My resolve quakes as I nearly melt into my husband's embrace. Just as I feel the tears threatening to fall, Rickon runs to me, his little arms wrapping around my waist and forcing Robb to release me.

Looking down at his tear-stained face, something is triggered in me once more. I kneel down, finding strength as suddenly as I did when we found Bran, and pull him into my arms.

"Hush now, my love," I murmur.

"Is Bran going to die?" he questions, sniffling.

"He fell and was badly hurt, but Maester Luwin is taking care of him," I say, unsure what else to offer him. Saying that Bran will survive when he isn't expected to could be more damaging than the truth, I fear.

I look up as Robb and Jon begin speaking with Septa Mordane quietly, allowing me to focus on the youngest Stark, but my eyes find Mother. Her expression is unreadable, but she watches me closely. A flash of something unfamiliar passes over her and, though I don't understand it, a strange feeling tightens in my chest.

Could this be the cause of the foreboding feeling or is it an omen of what's to come?

…

The following days after Bran's fall are a mess. He survives the first night, then the second, and after the third, Maester Luwin is certain he will live. But, he remains asleep and unmoving. I don't like seeing him that way, all frail and broken. The halls seem quiet without his laughter, the days dimmer without his smile. Despite the maester's assurances, each passing day leaves me more twisted with worry than the last. Why hasn't he woken yet?

Lady Cat refuses to leave his bedside. She sits there, seeming just as frail as her son. She won't eat, sleep, or even say more than a few words a day. It's almost like she's dying, the way her skin has paled and the dark circles cast shadows beneath her Tully blue eyes. I worry she'll become truly sick if she doesn't stop this soon.

Robb was terrified at first for his little brother, but he's taken Maester Luwin's assurances with more confidence. Now, he's quite certain that Bran will live and I think his attitude is what leaves Sansa and Arya less worried as well. Even Jon trusts the verdict. I'm the only one that seems to have doubts which is strange because I was the one who comforted each one of them.

It's Rickon that I'm worried for the most, though. He's sad and confused. He's barely seen his mother at all this week. His father is busy preparing for King's Landing and he knows his sisters are leaving too. He just recently found out that Jon would be going to the Wall with their Uncle Benjen today as well. He was so upset, but I didn't how to make it better.

All the while, I'm pretending that I also think everything is okay even though I'm fighting the desire to scream and cry. Today, they ride for Winterfell. I know there's no stopping them now. If Bran's fall didn't change the plans, then nothing would. Lord Stark, Sansa, and Arya are all going to the one place I never want to return to. They are going to a terrible place where everyone is playing a secret game and not one of them knows how it works.

And Jon…

There's no more convincing Jon of not joining the Night's Watch. After the accident, I was talking to him, but he acted as if nothing had changed. As if he hadn't told me that I was the one he wanted to marry. And while I should be happy about that, happy that we avoided any sort of awkwardness, it left me feeling rather cold. Every time I look at him now, I feel the ache in my heart. Distance will do that good because I have a husband I love and I shouldn't feel this way for any other man, but I'd rather hurt every day than not see Jon here in the castle.

None of it mattered, though. I must accept it. And I must say goodbye.

The first people I come across are my brother, my uncle, and Sandor. I approach them only to be shocked when I witness Uncle Tyrion smack Joffrey across the face. He yells something and my little brother scurries away, clutching his cheek. Sandor says something, but my uncle doesn't listen once he's spotted me as well.

"Dearest niece," he calls. "Or shall I call you Lady Stark?"

"I quite like being called dearest niece," I say as I stop in front of the two very different-sized men. "Why did you hit Joffrey?"

"He hasn't visited the Starks yet and given his sympathies. He acts like a little brat and your mother lets him get away with it," Uncle tells me.

"That's how it's always been, Uncle."

"Yes," he agrees with a frown. "How is the boy?"

"The same…he's not awake yet."

"Maester Luwin seems confident that he will survive."

"I know, Robb is confident, too. I just…I can't stop worrying. I've known Bran since he was four, I love him as my own brother. I can't imagine…"

"I'm sorry, Ellie. Truly," he says, placing a hand on my arm.

"Thank you," I murmur.

Tyrion gives me a smile before sighing, "Your mother has been looking for me, apparently. I must go find her. Would you like to come?"

"No, I'll speak with her later."

"Very well," my uncle squeezes my arm before leaving.

After an awkward silence, Sandor bows slightly and starts to leave, but I'm quick to stop him. My hand flying up to press against his chest plate halts him and he looks at me expectantly.

"The girls," I murmur so no stray listeners will hear, "they'll be going to King's Landing."

"I know," he mutters.

"I need you to promise me something, Sandor," I tell him. "Those girls are my sisters-by-law, but I love them as much as I would if we shared blood. I need you to protect them. Arya, she won't make it easy and she probably won't need you, but Sansa will. She's engaged to Joff and this seems like a fairytale to her."

I gaze up at the Hound and try to read his expression. He looks guarded, as always, but a little confused, too. I sigh, becoming unsure if he'll do what I ask, but there's no one else I trust enough.

"You and I both know what that place is," I whisper urgently. "The Starks don't. Ned thinks he knows my family, but he doesn't…not anymore. Promise me you'll protect my sisters. Please, Sandor?"

His good eye narrows as he considers my request. I imagine it looks strange, the scarred man towering over me as I willingly look him in the eyes. Most people are terrified of him and refuse to look at his face and see the horror inflicted on him when he was a child. I know Sandor Clegane is vicious and not particularly easy to get along with, but he's also kind. Perhaps, not in the common sense of the word and he doesn't show it often, but he is.

I've never feared him. I've never flinched away from him. I've never seen him as the dog that everyone else does which is why I'm asking him. I know he won't baby them or wait on them hand and foot, but if Sansa or Arya get into trouble, I hope he will save them. He was once something of an ally when I was a child, I can only hope that six years haven't changed anything.

"Please?" I murmur again. He nods slowly and I breathe a sigh of relief. "You'll do it?"

"Aye."

He leaves me after that and I watch him go before steeling myself to find the members of my family so I can say goodbye to them.

* * *

Hello, friends! I'm so sorry for the delay! This new semester is proving to be a lot busier.

So, this is a short, sort of uneventful chapter. Nothing really new, just fitting Ellie into the story. To make up for it, I will promise an update tomorrow!

Please let me know what you think! Comments, questions, and suggestions are always welcome and appreciated. :) Thank you, as always, to all who read! Special thanks to those who review, favorite, and follow.

Thanks again,

-V :)


	9. Chapter 9

I've said goodbye to almost everyone. It's just my mother, Tommen, and Myrcella I haven't spoken with…and Jon. I know the latter will be the hardest goodbye and I've been trying to avoid it in hopes that some miracle will ensue and he'll change his mind so I never have to say it. Of course, that doesn't happen which is why I stand outside of Bran's chambers, waiting for him to come out so we can speak alone.

"What are you doing?"

I look up at the sound of Ned's voice as he approaches me curiously. "I'm waiting for Jon, he's saying goodbye to Bran," I murmur.

Lord Stark nods as a conflicted look crosses his face before he passes me and enters the room. A moment later, Jon is exiting and the wooden door closes behind him. He nearly walks right by me as I'm hidden by the shadows and his eyes stare at his feet. I can tell he's fighting his emotions, probably trying not to cry, and my heart aches for him as I move closer.

"Jon," I murmur. He looks up in surprise upon seeing me, but the solemn expression only makes me sadder. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he answers automatically.

I go to call him a liar, but think better of it. "You've said goodbye to everyone?"

"Almost," he mutters.

"Were you going to say goodbye to me?"

"Yes."

We stare at each other in silence for a moment, both of us clearly trying to find the right words. I don't know what to say to him. I'd beg him to stay, but I know there's no chance of that happening. I'd tell him he was picking an honorable way to live, but encouraging this leaves a terrible taste in my mouth. I could burst into tears or start screaming at him, but that's not fair.

He's making a choice and it's not a bad choice, it's just a choice I don't like.

I don't know any words that could make this a proper goodbye. He is the closest friend I've ever had. I can barely remember how I lived without him for the first ten years of my life and there wasn't a day in the last six that I didn't get to see him. I could tell him that I don't know what I'll do if he's not here, that I'll miss him to the point I can't breathe, that I want him to stay more than anything I've ever wanted in my life, but making him feel guilty when he can't change his mind is cruel.

Maybe there isn't anything to say at this point.

Jon and I seem to come to the same conclusion at the same time because we both move forward into one another's arms. He holds me so tight that I can barely breathe, but I don't care. I put all the strength I have into the hug and that means I can no longer control my emotions. The tears come and I let them fall because I know this moment will end and we will never have another like it. Even when we see each other again, it won't be the same.

"Do you hate me?" I whisper. His embrace becomes impossibly tighter as I feel his hand rest against the back of my hair.

"I couldn't, even if I wanted to," he whispers in return.

…

The horses have been mounted, the carriages drawn, and I stand in front of the red wheelhouse with my baby sister and brother and my mother.

"When will we see you again?" Myrcella asks as she sniffles. Both Tommen and Myrcella cry as we say goodbye, just as they did when I left King's Landing six years ago.

"It won't be long," I promise her. "The time will fly by, you'll see. And perhaps, when we meet again, you'll be aunt."

My sister smiles at that as I kneel down in front of both children. I brush their tears away and smile gently even though I feel the desire to cry as well. I pull them in for hugs as we share how much we'll miss each other and, all too soon, we step apart and they're guided into the wheelhouse by handmaidens.

I look to my mother and she smiles sadly at me. I find myself troubled by how long it took me to realize she's always loved me. Now that I feel like I finally understand her, I can't help but want her to stay, if only for a few more days. Knowing that we probably won't see each other until a few years after I become a mother myself makes it even harder to say goodbye.

"You know, when I held you the first time, I couldn't fathom how something so precious could come from me. I thought it wasn't real, that you were a dream because no one could be that happy in real life. I think the gods let us feel so impossibly happy when our children first come into the world to ease the pain we feel as our children grow up," she tells me.

"Mother," I mutter, the tears becoming harder and harder to fight. "You said before that you knew I hated you…but that isn't true. I've never hated you, I couldn't."

Her smile seems to grow even sadder as she hugs me tight. She releases me first, pulling away and tucking one of my long curls behind my ear. I see tears in her eyes, a strange sight of the queen that no one else will ever see.

"I love you, my sweet girl," she says, pressing a kiss on my forehead before whispering in my ear, "don't let anyone take away your happiness."

She pulls away once again and says goodbye before climbing into the wheelhouse as well. Even as I join Robb and Rickon and watch the company begin its long journey back to King's Landing, I don't understand why she said it. Was she just saying it to say it or is someone going to threaten my happiness in the future?

It serves as a reminder for the omen I believe came with Bran's fall and a cold chill of fear runs down my spine. The only thing that stops me from voicing my fears to my husband is Rickon. His crying distracts me and I'm able to swallow my own emotions so I can take care of him.

…

Time seems to pass rather quickly after they leave. The castle seems lonely with so many people gone. It's all very melancholy in the quiet halls. Most of my time is spent with Rickon and I've seen Robb less since our guests left than I did when they were here and we sleep in the same bed now. He's become incredibly busy as acting lord while his father is away and I've taken up most of Lady Cat's responsibilities since she still hasn't left Bran's bedside.

While we were all so hopeful that he would survive, that hope has seemingly diminished with each passing day that he remains asleep. The gods seem fit to ignore all our prayers and I'm running out of ways to assure Rickon that everything will be all right. How do you tell a child that you believe something without a doubt when you are as unsure as he is?

Rickon clings to me day and night. He cries less than he did in the beginning, but I still spend a lot of time drying his tears and trying to explain to him that his family may be gone, but it's not forever. He feels abandoned and that's fair. His father and sisters are gone, his mother is practically unreachable, one brother has gone north, another too busy for even his wife, and the third lies broken in a room that he's barely allowed to visit. The only one to take care of him is me, his sister-by-law, though, he's known me just as long as he's known his true sisters.

Despite how quickly the days go by, I'm left with plenty of time to miss the others. However, it's Robb that I miss the most and he's still in Winterfell with me. We eat together at least once a day, but the only time we spend alone is at night. I enjoy making love to him, I like it even more every time we do it, but I want more. I miss just talking for hours and walking through the castle grounds. We used to go riding, I'd watch him train, he'd help me with my archery, and all other sorts of simple things. They seem insignificant, but I love them.

I don't want to bring it up either because I don't want him to feel guilty. He's doing what he's supposed to do, what he must do, and I'm being selfish. I just never expected married life would equate to this.

At least, I'll see him soon.

I return my attention to the sleeping boy, rubbing soothing circles on his back until I'm sure he's not going to wake up again. He's been having bad dreams lately so I've broken Lady Cat's rule. The wolves aren't supposed to sleep in here, but I let Shaggy Dog stay with Rickon. It doesn't hurt anything to allow him in here and it's not as if she knows. I'm sure she'll be angry when she does find out, but I will deal with it then. For now, I'll allow the youngest Stark some small form of comfort by simply letting his pet stay with him when I can't.

Said pet suddenly raises his head, ears perking up as he jumps off the bed. He goes to the closed door and looks back at me expectantly. As I go to let him out, I hear the dogs outside barking and then howling that I'm certain comes from Greywind. I quickly open the door for Shaggy Dog before going to the window to see what is causing the commotion.

Bright across the darkened castle grounds are flames climbing the library tower. Horrified, I ensure Rickon is fast asleep before running outside to see what's happened. The smoke reaches for the stars as people run around and try to figure out what to do. Men run towards it, shouting about water, but before I can follow, a hand wraps around my elbow.

I turn and find my husband looking as shocked as I feel.

"The library!" I blurt out and he nods.

"Where's Rickon?" he asks.

"Asleep, I was just with him."

"Good, stay here, I'll go help," he tells me.

He runs off before I can argue with him, but I'm distracted by my annoyance as Bran's wolf comes running past me and into the castle. Robb's and Rickon's wolves are nowhere in sight, but the unnamed one seems to have some purpose. With a final glance at the burning tower, I decide to follow him instead of my husband.

The fire has seemed to catch the attention of most of the castle inhabitants, leaving the halls rather quiet. It makes the snarling sound I hear ring out and echo against the stone walls. The sinking feeling of fear settles in my stomach as I pick up my pace and run towards the source of the noise. It brings me to the room that Bran occupies and I freeze in the doorway when I take in the sight in front of me.

The wolf moves away from a man's body who lies in a pool of his own blood. He jumps onto the bed and lays beside his master like any normal pet would despite having just ripped out the throat of a human. Then, I notice Catelyn kneeling at the end of the bed.

"Cat?" I call out, hesitating as I glance at the dead man again.

She turns around slowly at the sound of my voice and my eyes widen when I take in her appearance. There's blood on her mouth, but it's the way it gushes from both of her palms that has me rushing forward to help her.

"What's happened?" I demand as I fall in front of her and grasp her arms. Blood flows from the deep slices on her hands.

She doesn't answer me, her eyes just shift from the wolf to the man behind me several times, shock, I assume, keeping her silent. We still sit in the same position by the time Robb and Ser Rodrik burst into the room.

…

I sit in the same spot Cat had refused to leave just days ago while Rickon plays on the floor. Both his wolf and Bran's rest inside the room with us, offering protection should anyone else be a threat.

After Robb and Ser Rodrik had found us, Lady Cat was easily forced out of the room. Back in her chambers, I helped her bathe while Maester Luwin came to tend to her wounds. Once he stitched the deep injuries, he gave her milk of the poppy and she went to sleep in her own bed for the first time since Bran fell.

The only information we were able to get from her before she slept was that the man had come to kill Bran. The was enough to have me demanding there be guards posted outside both Bran and Rickon's doors which Robb agreed with. It became rather obvious that the fire was only a distraction, one that didn't work the way the would-be killer planned. As far as the reason for anyone wanting to kill Bran, I was coming up blank, but it left us all questioning if he really _fell_ from that tower.

I look up from the book that I've been pretending to read when I hear someone enter the room. Robb comes in with Old Nan, greeting Rickon with a grin.

"Ellie, will you come with me?" he asks as Old Nan makes her way over to me.

I glance down at Rickon, concerned about leaving him.

"I'll watch over them, Lady Stark," Old Nan tells me with a smile.

I smile back when I see that Rickon doesn't seem overly worried that I'm leaving him and follow my husband out of the room. He leads me to the godswood without offering any sort of explanation other than that he'll tell me in a moment.

When we reach the heart tree that we were married under not long before, I see we're not alone. Lady Cat, Ser Rodrik, Maester Luwin, and Theon all wait beneath the trees for us. Suspicion consumes me as I take in each one of their expressions.

"What's going on?" I question immediately as we stop in front of everyone.

"Ellie, we don't believe Bran fell from that tower," Cat begins. "Someone tried to kill him twice. We don't know why, but I need to find out."

"How are you going to do that?" I ask, agreeing with the idea that his fall wasn't accidental.

"First, we need to find out who the dagger belongs to," she says.

Ser Rodrik pulls the large knife from the scabbard and holds it up to me, "Do you recognize this, my lady?"

I hadn't seen the weapon that cut Cat's hands the other night when I found her bleeding. I was too preoccupied with making sure she was okay to pay any attention to what the dead man was holding. Even afterwards, what interest would I have with the knife that man planned to use on my young brother-by-law? I didn't want any more means to imagine what could have happened if it wasn't for the direwolf.

"It couldn't have belonged to that man, it's Valyrian steel with a dragon bone handle," he continues. "We've never seen it in Winterfell before, could have belonged to someone in the party from King's Landing."

My blood runs cold as I stare at the weapon.

When my family was here, I enjoyed spending time with Myrcella and Tommen, but Mother forced me to spend time in the company of Joffrey. Neither of us were particularly happy with the order, but we listened nonetheless. There are very few things my brother and I have in common, but one thing we do share is an admiration for weaponry. So, during one of the occasions spent together, he showed me the collection of weapons that Father had brought with him. There was only one that stood out. Only one that caught my attention in the mass of spears, war hammers, and swords.

A dagger made of Valyrian steel.

The same dagger that almost killed Bran.

"Have you seen it before?" Ser Rodrik presses.

"No," I lie, swallowing the lump that's formed in my throat. "I don't recognize it."

They take me at my word because I've never lied to them before so why would I now. Bile rises in the back of my throat, though, from my dishonesty. I don't know why I didn't tell the truth, but the idea of telling them that weapon belongs to my father sickens me even further. Will they accuse their king of trying to murder a little boy? Surely, they're not so foolish.

And there's no way my father is responsible. Why would he hurt Bran? Why would he hurt any innocent child? He's not a monster. Anyone can steal a weapon. I could have taken it that day and not a soul would have known. It may be Father's knife, but he didn't do this. He wouldn't.

"No matter," Catelyn says, "we'll find out who it belongs to in the Capitol."

"The Capitol?" I mutter in confusion.

"Father needs to be told and we can't send a raven," Robb explains. "Mother and Ser Rodrik will be going to King's Landing to speak with him."

The sick feeling in my stomach worsens as I gape at my mother-by-law.

"You can't!" I say urgently. "What about Rickon? And Bran?"

"I owe you a great debt, Ellie, for taking care of Rickon. I have no right to ask, but I will anyways. Please continue to take care of them."

"What do you think you'll find in King's Landing, Cat?" I demand. "That is not the place to go for answers!"

"It's the only place to go for them."

"King's Landing is full of liars, you cannot trust anyone you meet. It's too dangerous, send a rider if you must, but you can't go."

"The people here are the only ones I trust with this information, I must go myself."

"This is madness!"

"They tried to kill my brother," Robb says angrily.

"Who tried?"

"We don't know," Cat answers quickly before my husband can. I turn to her, noting the guarded expression on her face as well as the faces of the men around me and realize that something is being kept from me.

What if they already know the knife belongs to my father?

What if they know I'm lying?

* * *

I'm so sorry that this is technically late because I did promise it would be posted 2/6 and it's 12:10am for me on 2/7. Hope you guys can forgive me!

So, this is the beginning of Ellie's struggle between her love for her families and her loyalty to both. What do you guys think of her lie?

Please let me know! I'm really excited to hear what you think! Comments, questions, and suggestions are very much welcome and appreciated. Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed. And, of course, thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

Thanks again,

-V :)


	10. Chapter 10

Hello, I'm back! Please read the Author's Note at the end of the chapter! Enjoy! :)

* * *

"Don't be angry, Ellie," Robb sighs as I slam open the door to our shared chambers and march through it.

"I'm not angry," I snap.

"Really," he scoffs.

I spin around in irritation as he shuts the door behind him. "I'm frustrated that no one bloody listens to me! King's Landing is not a good place. Your mother and your father both believe that they're going to find all these answers about murder or attempted murder, but they don't understand!"

"Somebody tried to kill my brother, do you just expect them to sit around and not demand justice?" he questions harshly.

"If your parents are foolish enough to believe that justice is found in King's Landing then they are in much more danger than I originally believed."

"Father can defend himself and Mother will be protected by Ser Rodrik," Robb says.

"The danger I'm speaking of cannot be fought with swords, Robb!"

"Ellie, Father has already left and Mother will not change her mind. You just need to trust them," he urges me.

"It's not them I don't trust."

…

I continue to ponder the repercussions of lying about recognizing the blade even long after Cat leaves with it and begins to journey to my old home. None of them suspect me of dishonesty, not even Robb, but it still leaves me sick. I battle nausea each morning after waking from nightmares of the Starks getting hurt in King's Landing. Cat meeting a painful end, Ned being betrayed by someone he mistakenly trusted, the girls being hurt in a way that only men could cause, and soldiers coming to Winterfell just to harm my husband and his little brothers.

Even now, my stomach convulses painfully and I heave the remains of my last meal into a pot.

"My lady!" My handmaiden comes running into the room and stoops in front of me. "You're ill again? Should I fetch the maester?"

"No, no," I wave her off, "I'm all right."

"That's the third morning this week, my lady."

"Stress is all it is," I assure her. She doesn't look convinced, but silently helps me to my feet and guides me to the fresh basin of water she brought me.

I splash the cool water on my face and rinse my mouth until the taste of bile has gone away. Afterwards, I sit in the chair and my handmaiden begins to brush my hair. I try to relax as her gentle fingers braid my hair, but my lie haunts me still. I've never lied to the Starks before, I'm not a liar. It makes it seem like I believe my father to be guilty of something, but I don't.

My father is a good man and he would not harm a child let alone the child of his closest friend. Someone stole that dagger from the weapons Father brought with him. I just don't know who or why they would want to harm Bran. Robb says he must have saw something he wasn't supposed to, but what could he have seen? What secrets could a ten-year-old accidently unearth?

There's a sudden knock on my door, startling me as well as my handmaiden, and a serving girl comes rushing in, out of breath. I look up at the winded girl as she gasps for breath and gives a weak curtsy.

"Milady, I'm sorry, but h-he's awake!"

"What?" I gasp, standing and barely missing a collision with the girl behind me.

"The little Lord Bran, he's awake!"

"Get my husband," I order, running past her as fast as I can.

By the time I reach his room, I'm as out of breath as she had been. I stop in the doorway, seeing the wolf on his bed and his familiar brown eyes open again. Bran props himself up on his elbows when he sees me and gives me a blank expression as the wolf licks his face.

"His name is Summer," he says simply.

…

"Would you like to go outside, love?" I ask from the seat beside the bed.

Bran sits at the window seat, staring down into the courtyard. Upon hearing my suggestion, he turns to me with a withering glare.

"It's not fair," he grumbles.

Bran is awake, he's alive, but he's not the same. He no longer has any use of his legs. He will never walk again or run or climb. He won't be a knight like he dreamed, I don't think he'll father children when he's older. He will be a cripple for the rest of his life.

"It's not, I know."

The gods are cruel for doing this to an innocent boy and he can't even remember what happened. He can't tell us if he fell or if he was pushed. He can't tell us if he saw something he wasn't supposed to. He doesn't know someone tried to kill him with a dagger and even if we told him, Bran wouldn't be able to say if that was the first or second attempt on his life.

"You don't know," he snaps. " _You_ can walk."

"Bran, my sweet," I murmur, setting aside my stitching, and moving to his side. "I don't know what you feel, but I know that it's terrible, I know that you don't deserve this."

"Will I ever walk again?" he asks quietly. I glance out the window and see Rickon running around with Shaggy Dog.

I sigh sadly, unsure what to say. I run my fingers through his hair as I try to think of an answer. In the end, I can neither lie to him nor tell the truth.

"I don't know."

"I won't," he says. "I know."

…

Summer growls as the door to Bran's room opens from the outside and Theon comes in, hesitating for only a moment when he spots the wolf. I eye him for a minute before returning to my stitching since I have little interest in talking to the Greyjoy.

"We have visitors," he says.

"I don't want to see anyone," Bran quips.

"You don't have a choice," Theon tells him.

"I don't want to go."

"Neither do I, but –"

"If he doesn't want to see anyone, he doesn't have to," I interrupt. "Leave him be."

"Robb is waiting," he says. "You'll want to see the _visitor_ too."

"What are you talking about?" I ask with a sigh, finally looking up from my fabric.

Theon just smirks before calling for Hodor and telling him to take Bran. Biting back the urge to snap at him, I set my things on the bed and follow them out of the room. We make our way to the great hall in silence as I force away my irritation from being called on by the Greyjoy in front of me. I don't think I'm getting enough sleep because my mood is easily shifting these days at the slightest disturbance.

As we reach our destination, I hear a familiar voice commenting on the truth to Bran's condition. I peek out from behind Hodor and see my uncle.

"Beloved niece," he greets as his attention shifts to me.

"Uncle Tyrion," I say with a warm smile, my attitude immediately brightening. "You really did go to the Wall then?"

"I did," he answers before turning back to my brother-by-law. "Hello, Bran."

Bran stares down at my uncle with a blank expression, completely uninterested in any sort of conversation. Tyrion isn't fazed, however.

"Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"The boy has no memory of that day," Maester Luwin answers for Bran.

"Curious," Uncle mutters.

"Why are you here?" Robb demands in annoyance.

I turn to glare at my husband as my uncle ignores him and continues a conversation with Bran. Robb doesn't even look remotely apologetic for the tone he's using with a member of my family. After I'm certain he knows how angry I am, I turn back to the two closest to me.

Uncle Tyrion offers Bran a gift in the form of a rolled-up piece of parchment. "Give that to your saddler, he'll provide the rest."

"Will I really be able to ride?" Bran questions him with a hopeful smile.

"You will," my uncle assures.

"Is this some kind of trick?" Robb asks suspiciously. "Why do you want to help him?"

Incredulous, I turn back to my husband, confused at his continued disrespect. He looks at me only briefly before shifting a hardened gaze at Uncle Tyrion once more.

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things," he answers.

"You've done my brother a kindness, the hospitality of Winterfell is yours," Robb says, albeit begrudgingly.

"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark," Uncle tells him dismissively. "There's a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed and we can both rest easier."

"Please, Uncle," I say with another glare at Robb. "We can provide a much nicer bed."

"No need, Lady Stark," he tells me. "Farewell, sweet girl."

My uncle exits the great hall and my anger boils over as I turn to Robb once again. Just as I am about to go off on him, I realize that I can't. He's the acting lord, but he's still young. Men won't likely follow him if they see his wife scold him so I swallow my words and march out of the hall as well, silently promising a fight in the privacy of our own chambers.

I rush after my uncle, catching him just before he mounts his horse. I call out to him and he turns with a small smile.

"You don't have to leave," I say. "Forgive my husband, he's under a lot of stress these days and he's very protective of his younger brother."

"Thank you, Ellie," he says sincerely, "but I'll enjoy myself at the brothel, I assure you."

He winks at me and I roll my eyes good-naturedly before growing serious again. "What you did for Bran…you can't imagine what it means to him. I'm so grateful, Uncle Tyrion."

"I understand how it feels to be different and this is a small piece of his old life that he can have again. It's not much, but it is something."

"It's more than something," I tell him. I step back as he expertly maneuvers his way onto his horse, using a stool provided for him by one of the Lannister men he travels with. Once he is situated, I step closer again. "Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"At the Wall, did you see Jon Snow often?" I ask, attempting to mask my concern.

"I did," he answers with a quirked brow.

"Is…is he happy? Does he like it?"

I can tell just from my uncle's expression that I won't enjoy the answer. "He was disappointed to learn the truth, but he's doing well. He excels at everything and he's made friends."

"He has?" I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"He told me to tell you that he loves it there," Uncle Tyrion shares with a knowing smile. "He said you would worry and asked me to promise that I would make sure you knew there was no need to."

"Nothing you could say would stop me from worrying," I sigh.

"No," he nods in understanding. "I can tell you this, though. As far as I can see, Jon Snow is exactly where he needs to be."

…

Knowing I'm upset, Robb comes to our chambers shortly after my uncle leaves the castle walls. After watching Tyrion leave, my anger with my husband has grown exponentially. So, when he finally closes the door behind him and we're alone, I relinquish the hold I have on my emotions.

"How dare you speak to my uncle that way?" I snap. "He's a guest and you blatantly disrespected him! And when he's gone out of his way to give your brother a gift. He didn't pay someone to design that, you know, he did it himself!"

Robb makes no move to defend himself or apologize for his actions.

"I don't speak to your uncle that way! What has he ever done to you?" I demand.

His expression shifts suddenly and he has the same guarded expression his mother had in the godswood when she spoke of the man who tried to kill Bran.

"What?" I press. "What are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing," he mutters, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm your wife," I remind him sharply.

"She didn't want me to tell you, she knew you'd be upset," he says.

"It's too late for that," I quip. "What secrets are you keeping from me?"

"Mother thinks she knows who played a part in Bran's fall."

"My uncle?" I ask in disbelief.

"The Lannisters," he tells me. "Your uncles…"

My blood nearly boils as I hear his accusation. "And my mother?" I finish for him.

"…Yes."

"Am I a suspect too?"

"Ellie –"

"I'm part Lannister!" I growl. "I go into the broken tower, I could have thrown your brother from the top."

"Stop," Robb orders.

"I could have hired that man to go and kill him," I continue, my words growing harsher even as I start to lose my breath. "Maybe I even started a fire in the library to distract you!"

"Ellie, enough!"

"No, I can't believe this," I shout. "My family may not be as good and honorable as yours, but they're not monsters!"

"Ellie," Robb begins, but I'm already walking towards the door.

I tear it open and slam it shut as I stomp down the hall and away from him. But even as I put more distance between my husband and myself, I start to doubt my own words.

Who had the easiest access to my father's weapons?

* * *

Okay, so I am so unbelievably sorry for the delay on the update. I'm also sorry that this chapter is mostly just a filler, but I wanted to get something up for you guys since you've been waiting.

I obviously had a plan for the way this story was going to go, but I've decided that it's stupid :/ However, I have a whole new plan which is going to be a lot better, or I hope it will anyway. I'm super excited to continue the story on this new path. It will end up changing a lot of big things from the show, but it won't take any of them out completely, if that makes sense. I also believe my new plot will be truer to all the characters including my OC. I know I'm being vague, but I don't want to reveal everything yet.

So, the main reason why I'm sharing this with you guys is because the new plan will keep Jon and Ellie apart way longer than I originally intended. I hope that doesn't disappoint everyone too much or make anyone want to stop reading. I promise, I will keep things interesting if you guys just stick with me. But it will be Robb and Ellie for a while.

I hope I didn't lose any readers, but I am sorry for switching things up and, of course, for taking so long to update! Thank you, as always, for reading. Please, please, please review and let me know what you think about me changing my original ideas. Questions, suggestions, and requests are always welcome as well. I'll be posting another chapter tomorrow for sure.

Thank you so much for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing!

-V :)


	11. Chapter 11

My family couldn't have done this.

They wouldn't hurt Bran. They wouldn't hurt a child.

I don't believe it. It's a nasty accusation from a family that has never liked the Lannisters.

 _But they were still at the castle during the hunt._

No, not them. They didn't do this. They couldn't be capable of that…

Uncle Tyrion is a drunk with a sharp tongue, but not a murderer. If a man saw something he wasn't supposed to, he would more likely pay them off than harm them. And he would never harm a child, he loves children. He was kind to Bran even before he was crippled and why would he go out of his way to design a saddle for him if he wanted the boy dead?

I stop in front of the broken tower, staring up at the top and picturing Bran climbing, but the way he looked on the ground, broken and barely alive, steals the nice memory and replaces it. I try to shake it from my mind and continue my path inside.

They call Uncle Jaime Kingslayer. They say he has no honor, that he broke a vow when he stabbed the Mad King in the back. He did break a vow, he swore to protect the king he killed, but it's not as if King Aerys was innocent. And Ned Stark was coming to kill him too, I imagine. Jaime isn't the best person in the world, he's arrogant, but would he push Bran from the window?

Surely, my mother cannot be accused. Why would she try to take a child from his mother? Why would she harm a child so close in age to two of her own? And she knows that I love Bran like my own brother, she would never hurt him.

What secrets could they possibly have that Bran stumbled upon anyway?

No, they didn't have secrets or at least none that would hurt my brother-by-law. This is ridiculous. No one even came inside the broken tower except for Jon and me so why would strangers to this castle wander in here? They wouldn't and that's why my family isn't responsible for this.

Yet, as I climb the stairs, I remember one other person I saw here on my wedding day.

My mother.

…

I sit at the top of the broken tower for a long time, staring out the window and feeling lonely in the safe place for the first time since I came to Winterfell. By the time I return, it's nearly supper and I spend the time leading up to it preparing the boys for the meal. I don't go to Robb no matter how many times I'm told he's looking for me. Even after I'm sat by his side for dinner, I don't look his way.

I pick at my food as the men talk and try not to watch the way Yoren of the Night's Watch gnaws at the pig bones. As rude as it may seem, I have little interest in the conversation especially when he had nothing to say about Jon. In fact, I get rather irritated when the man shrugs and only shares that he's the bane of Ser Alliser's existence, whatever that means.

"Eat your turnips, love." I tell Rickon quietly.

"I don't want them," he argues.

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't ask then, isn't it?"

He scowls at me, but eats them nonetheless.

"Do you think I'll really be able to ride, Ellie?" Bran asks when there's a lull in the conversation.

"I do," I assure him. "My uncle is very clever."

"I took it to the saddler earlier," Robb adds. "Should be done soon."

Next, they talk of Benjen Stark. Yoren says he went north of the Wall to find other rangers who hadn't returned, but he's been gone longer than expected. When he says that it isn't good news, hinting at the notion that Robb's uncle is dead, my husband grows angry.

"My uncle is not dead," he tells the Night's Watchman sharply. "Do you hear me?"

Finally, I look at my husband and note the urgency in his blue eyes. His hand has released the fork and clenches into a fist, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Naturally, I reach out and rest my own hand on his and feel him relax beneath my touch. He turns to me, surprise melting away his anger and a touch of relief that leaves me feeling guilty.

"As you say, milord," Yoren says, continuing his improper eating.

"He's not dead," I agree, quiet enough for only Robb to hear.

My husband nods and the meal returns to calm, but I stop avoiding his gaze and the tension seems to ease in both of us.

…

"Are you still angry with me?" Robb questions as the door to Rickon's chambers closes quietly.

Robb carried Bran back to his room after supper and stayed with him until I came in with Rickon to get him ready for bed. I thought he'd leave, but he stayed and even followed me to Rickon's room afterwards. He watched with a small smile as I rubbed his little brother's back until he drifted to sleep. It's been our routine since before his father left for the Capitol, but I suppose Robb wouldn't know that as busy as he's been.

"No," I murmur.

Robb lets out a breath of relief. Smiling slightly, he steps closer and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. His fingers trail down my cheek and I lean into his touch.

"Let's go riding tomorrow," he suggests. "Just the two of us."

"What about the boys?" I ask, glancing at the closed door to our right.

"There are plenty here to watch them," he says. "We won't go far or be gone long."

Robb's hand is suddenly at my waist and pulling me flush against his chest. He kisses me sweetly and it only ends because I pull away so I can lead him back to our chambers.

…

Long after Robb has fallen asleep, I remain awake, plagued by his earlier accusation.

That dagger belonged to my father, that cannot be questioned, but he was hunting when Bran fell from the tower. Even if he wasn't, what secrets could he have? My father is the king, bold and brazen, he does whatever he wants whenever he wants. He does not care about the consequences or the words whispered behind his back. And if he had a secret, no one, especially a child, would dare reveal it. He wouldn't have harmed his best friend's son for any reason.

The Starks aren't accusing my father, though. They're accusing the Lannisters, my mother and my uncles, three people who did not attend the hunt and could have easily found their way to my father's hoard of weapons. I have no doubt in my mind that my Uncle Tyrion had absolutely nothing to do with any harm that's befallen Bran. Yet, my heart stutters over the possibility that my mother isn't as innocent.

I don't know her secrets, I just know that she has many. I also know that many could prosper from revealing the queen's secrets to the king without fearing the danger since she's a woman. However, Bran isn't a man searching for gold or glory. He's a child, so how could any mother even attempt to harm him? No secret could be so unforgiveable that it would cost an innocent boy his life.

If I believe all of that, though, why is it still keeping me up at night?

Glancing at my husband, I ensure he's still fast asleep before slipping out of our shared bed. I find my robe in the darkness and wrap it around my naked body. Blindly, I find the small desk and light a single candle to illuminate the room just enough for me to write a letter.

 _Mother,_

 _Bran is awake, I'm sure you've heard, but he has no memory of the fall. My husband and Lady Catelyn believe it was no accident and I am starting to believe it as well. A man came into his room not long after you left and tried to slit his throat, even as he lay unconscious. Even a simpleton would see that as the second attempt on the boy's life._

 _The dagger used belonged to Father which means someone gave it to the assassin. Tell me they're wrong, Mother. Tell me the family I share blood with had nothing to do with any harm done to the family I've joined by marriage. I cannot blindly defend you, I must know the truth. I fear we will all suffer from lies._

 _Eliana_

In front of the raven's cage, I hesitate. This letter will reveal the Starks' suspicion, possibly endangering them in the process. Though, they endanger themselves by accusing the queen and her brothers. If I knew the truth, then perhaps I could protect both sides of my family. I could stop the foolish mistakes Lady Cat will no question make and help hide whatever secret nearly took Bran's life.

Innocence is in question, but the love I have for my family is not.

Swallowing hard, I attach the scroll to the raven and release it, praying that I'm not making a grave mistake.

…

 _My dearest Ellie,_

 _There are some things you will not understand. Remember who your family is, where your heart lies._

 _With love,_

 _Mother_

I've reread my mother's words a thousand times since the raven returned with the message. Since that time, Lady Cat has done exactly what I wished to prevent. She's taken my Uncle Tyrion as a prisoner and keeps him with her sister in the Vale. In return, my Uncle Jaime responded in an unsurprising way. He's killed several Stark men in King's Landing and one of his soldiers put a spear through Lord Stark's leg. Both sides are begging for a war, the prospect of it hangs over our heads like a dark cloud carrying lightning that will destroy us all.

And what does my mother say when I ask what secret is worth all of this? Nothing but a bloody riddle.

I know exactly who my family is, there are two sides to it and my heart lies with both. I want to protect them all, but how can I do that when they're ready to go to war against each other? Where am I to stand on the battlefield?

"Forgive me, my lady," Maester Luwin says after a quiet knock on the open door. "I hope I am not disturbing you."

"You're not," I assure as I stand, crumpling the note in my clenched fist. "What can I do for you, Maester?"

"I've come to check on you, your handmaiden shared her growing concern with me," he explains. "She tells me you've been quite ill most days in the past few weeks."

"It's stress," I say dismissively.

"That's what she told me, but she isn't convinced."

"Who could keep their meals down when their families are ready to kill each other? When the threat of war is on the horizon?"

"No one, I imagine," he admits. "But are you quite sure that's real reason for your sickness?"

"What other reason could there be?" I return in confusion.

"Maester Luwin!" A serving girl comes running into the room, eyes widening when she sees me. "My lady, forgive me. Lord Stark sent me for the Maester, Lord Bran has been hurt."

…

"I don't understand," I sigh as Robb and I leave Bran's room. "What are wildlings doing on this side of the Wall?"

"Wildlings sneak through all the time," Theon says as he approaches us.

"No, they don't," I argue. "The occasional wildling who actually makes it over never gets this far either."

"What difference does it make?" Theon questions. "Who cares why those savages do things?"

"I do, especially when they endanger my family. Robb, don't you think this is strange?" I turn to my husband who has been relatively silent since returning with an injured Bran.

"Maybe, but it's not our concern," he tells me. "Wildings are the responsibility of the Night's Watch."

"Jon is in the Night's Watch now. We should tell him what happened, maybe he'll have answers," I suggest. "They should know that wildings are getting this far."

"Write to him if you like, Ellie," Robb sighs as he walks away from Theon and me.

"Where are you going?" I call after him, but he doesn't reply.

"Think Robb knows that Jon Snow is always your first thought?" Theon asks with an irritating smirk.

My concern for my husband melts away, replaced by a glare I turn on the Greyjoy. "What are you talking about?"

"Not everyone is as blind as him," he says simply before sauntering off in the opposite direction of Robb.

Guilt blooms within me as I watch Theon leave, knowing he's not wrong. Jon may be absent from Winterfell, but he is always at the forefront of my mind. The same cannot be said for anyone else, my husband included. I feel ashamed that my concern over the wildings has more to do with how close Jon is to them and less to do with the threat they hold to the people around me. Then, more shame overcomes me as I fear Robb finding out just how often his half-brother is in my thoughts and why exactly he holds such an important place in my heart.

If Theon Greyjoy notices, how many others have as well?

It's disgraceful how horrible of a wife I am when I've been married for such a short amount of time. I was supposed to put aside any feelings I've ever had for Jon Snow when I married Robb. The sacred bond of marriage means that we gave ourselves to the other completely and I made that vow. Yet, I break it by saving a part of my heart for a boy in the Night's Watch. 'Keep your heart close,' Mother had told me and I know I'd be wise to listen. Robb is my husband, we share a bed, a name, a life. Jon is just – the words turn to ash on my tongue, forcing me to swallow hard – just a…

Jon is just a bastard protecting a wall.

…

"Robb?" I call quietly into our darkened chambers. "What are you doing?"

I use the single candle glowing to light others around us so I can see my husband more clearly. He sits at the small table, slouched in his seat, staring at nothing. As I get closer, I see his fist clenched so tight around something, his skin is white as snow stretched over his knuckles. My hand covers his when he doesn't answer and I gaze at him worriedly, taking in the troubled creases on his handsome face.

"I killed two men today," he says softly, but his voice echoes in the silence.

"You were protecting your brother," I remind him, kneeling in front of his chair. "All men kill, good men only when they have to. You spared the woman her life."

"I'll have to again," he continues. My hands move to clasp over one of his knees while his fist finally loosens enough to twist the object around. "There's a war brewing, Ellie. Theon already thinks I should call my father's bannermen because of the attack led by your uncle."

"Taking advice on rebellions from a Greyjoy is laughable, Robb. You're smarter than that."

"Who have you been writing, Ellie?" Robb questions, finally revealing the object to be the Stark seal.

"My mother," I admit with caution. "Why do you ask?"

"Your uncles are guilty, whether you believe or not," he tells me. "What Jaime Lannister did to my father, to our men, it was an act of war. You cannot deny that."

"Your mother abducted Tyrion," I say, bristling.

"He tried to kill Bran twice," Robb nearly growls.

"I warned your mother not to go to King's Landing. This is her mess."

"You are my wife. I know the Lannisters are your family, but so are the Starks. I need to know, when a war does come, whose side will you stand on?"

"There doesn't have to be a war. All your mother needs to do is release –"

"Ellie!" Robb interrupts sharply, dropping the seal and grabbing my arms. "Whose side will you take? Theirs or ours?"

Tears fill my eyes as his question rips me apart. I'm a Baratheon with Lannister blood. I love my family, despite all their faults. They're not perfect, but I know they aren't monsters either as my husband believes. The Starks are my family too, though. They welcomed me into their home and hearts, raised me for the past six years, and accepted me in a way I always wanted. I've taken the name, Robb's name, and my house is his now. How can I abandon or forsake one for the other?

Where is my loyalty supposed to lie?

 _"Remember who your family is, where your heart lies."_

Gazing into the heat of Robb's blue eyes, I realize this is the same conflict I face with my feelings for Jon. I know who my family is, but pieces of my heart lie in more than one place. Now, I must give my heart to only one. _All_ of my heart.

"Yours," I whisper as a tear trails down my cheek.

…

Ned's POV

"Lord Stark, a moment," Lord Renly requests as I limp down the corridor away from the room where his brother lay dying. "Alone if you will."

Tightening my grip on the scroll with the king's seal, I nod at my men behind me to leave us.

"He named you Protector of the Realm," Renly continues once my guards are out of earshot. His calm tone contradicts the tightening of his features. Perhaps, he expected to be named over me.

"He did," I confirm.

"She won't care," he tells me. "Give me an hour and I can put a hundred swords at your command."

"And what should I do with a hundred swords?" I question cautiously.

"Strike! Tonight, while the castle sleeps," he says as though it's obvious. "We must get Joffrey away from his mother and into our custody. Protector of the Realm or not, he who holds the king holds the kingdom. Every moment you delay gives Cersei another to prepare. By the time Robert dies, it will be too late for both of us."

"Both of us? What about Eliana?"

"Saving the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei and delivering them to her daughter? You have odd notions about protecting the realm," he intones scornfully.

"Eliana is not her mother," I assure him. "And she is the only true-born child of Robert's. She is the rightful heiress to the throne, the _only_ heir to the throne."

"This isn't about the bloody line of succession," he snaps. "That didn't matter when you were rebelling against the Mad King. It shouldn't matter now. She's a girl, a child. She was raised to be the wife of a high lord not the leader of the Seven Kingdoms. What's best for the kingdoms? What's best for the people we rule?"

"The last time you saw Princess Eliana she was a child. She has grown, come of age, and she will learn how to rule. She is beloved, she will inspire loyalty. She is courageous, smart, and honorable."

"You think Westeros is ready to follow a woman?"

"No, I think Westeros is ready to follow a true queen."

"If my niece is queen, won't that make your son the king?" he challenges. "How do you expect people to believe you if that's what you're offering them? They won't see the truth, they'll see the Hand trying a play for power."

"I have no interest in power," I growl. "My son is of the north. When King Robert dies, the Iron Throne will belong to Eliana. House Baratheon will still rule. Serve on her Small Council, help her do better than those who ruled before her."

"And what will happen to Cersei and Joffrey? Do you think Eliana will strike them down when she needs to because she _will_ need to?" Renly questions. "My niece has a soft heart, it will get her killed, get us all killed. _I_ can protect us from that fate. If we act now, if you –"

"I will not dishonor Robert's last hours by shedding blood in his halls and dragging frightened children from their beds. If you truly care for the realm, you will trust Eliana to rule and help her," I say, finishing the conversation by walking away with the help of my cane.

His fear is understandable and he's right, people will believe I have less than honorable intentions because she is married to Robb, but Eliana is the rightful ruler. She does have a soft heart which is something kings lack, but she also has a strong mind. The princess is nothing like her father and only enough like her mother to understand what even I do not.

The young lady warned me against coming here, warned me against allowing my daughter to marry Joffrey. She senses danger in places and people long before anyone else. She's wiser than her years and smarter than most. Eliana could fix the mistakes her father made, repair the damage done by those who ruled before her. Some may believe Stannis or Renly Baratheon better choices because they're men, but a woman could be what the Seven Kingdoms needs. A queen, noble and honorable, could save the realm from all which threatens to destroy it.

…

"You will sail to White Harbor, then you will ride as fast as possible to Winterfell," I command my steward as I seal the letter with my house sigil. "You will place this in the hand of Princess Eliana. Not the maester's, not my son's, only Eliana herself."

"Yes, my lord," the man agrees as I hand the scroll to him.

A knock precedes the door opening and Petyr Baelish entering.

"Leave us," I order my steward. "Travel quickly."

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

Hey guys, here's today's chapter as promised. I plan on updating pretty often, at least for the remainder of the summer, so I should have Chapter 12 up within the next couple of days.

So, what did everyone think? I'd really, really like to hear everyone's feedback, especially on Ellie's choices! I'm not super confident about how well I wrote Ned's point of view, but I had a request for it so I gave it a shot!

Please review! Questions, suggestions, and requests are always welcome. I really love hearing from everyone!

Thank you so much for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing! I appreciate it so much and I hope you all enjoyed.

See you next time,

-V :)


	12. Chapter 12

Jon's POV

"I miss girls," Sam says as we stare out at the vast expanse north of the Wall. "Not even talking to them. I never talked to them. Just looking at them, hearing them giggle."

The wind blows hard on the top of the Wall, forcing me to huddle beneath my furs and tighten all my muscles for warmth. I try to block out this kind of talk, but Sam won't let me.

"Don't you miss girls?" he asks curiously.

"No, I don't miss girls," I mutter. "I miss _a_ girl."

"Did you have someone?" he questions. "At Winterfell?"

"She wasn't mine."

"But you loved her," he presses. I continue to watch for any signs of life below, praying something will come so I can get away from this conversation. "What was her name?"

I've tried very hard to not think about her at all, yet it's impossible. She appears in my mind when I first wake up, when I close my eyes to sleep, and in most of my dreams. I didn't know how impossibly empty I would feel just from not seeing her every day.

"Jon?"

"Ellie," I say. "Eliana."

"Eliana? Are you talking about…the _princess_?" Sam sounds almost scandalized, making me scoff.

All those years of saying it, but it could never be true. She could never be just Ellie and I could never be just Jon.

"Aye," I confirm. "The princess and my brother's wife."

That leaves the man speechless for a moment, but Sam quickly recovers. "I've heard she's beautiful."

"She is, I've never met anyone more beautiful."

"Well, what is she like?"

What is she like? There's a million things I could say to describe her. Simple words like kind, funny, caring, or clever would all be appropriate, but they don't do Ellie justice. I don't think anything ever could. She isn't just a few things, she's _everything_. There's no one even remotely comparable to Ellie in any way which makes it difficult to explain with accuracy everything I love about her.

Blinking, I see her with that wild sparkle in her deep blue eyes. I hear her voice calling my name, her laugh warming the wind, and feel her making life not so lonely anymore.

"She…" I search for something to give my friend that could silence the rest of his questions. "She just made everything right."

"Did she know?" he asks quietly.

"I told her," I murmur. "Then, I watched her marry Robb."

"Did you ever kiss her?"

"No," but I wish I did.

I wish I kissed her in our tower or when I hugged her goodbye. It would have made me an even worse brother and friend, but I don't care. I can picture her smile now, her pink lips. I bet she tastes of honey because that's how she always smelled. There's a good chance I'll never see her again and if I do, it won't be for years. I should've kissed her so I could keep the memory forever since I'll never have her.

…

Robb's POV

"What have you done?" Ellie demands as she bursts through the doors to the great hall.

It's the first time she's been anywhere other than our chambers or Bran and Rickon's rooms since the raven arrived bringing news of King Robert's death. Even now, tears stain her cheeks and her blue eyes are rimmed red. The black curls that usually hang with such beauty are now pulled back in a sloppy braid and her dress in wrinkled from lying in bed for so long. Clutched in her fist is a handkerchief for the sadness threatening to spill over once more.

"Ellie," I begin, but her scornful look silences me.

"Do you think I'm stupid? All the ravens flying out at once?" she continues, quickly losing her breath in her anger. "You've called your bannermen!"

"Joffrey has arrested my father, accused him of treason," I say.

"So, you start a war?" she shouts incredulously. "Have you gone completely mad?"

"Your brother has him rotting in a cell, has my sisters as prisoners as well, and he expects me to come bend the knee!"

"Your father declared he wasn't the rightful heir! What did you think he was going to do?"

"Do you think my father is really guilty of treason?" I question in shock.

"My father, the king, is dead. My brother Joffrey is his eldest son, the heir to the Iron Throne. What possible doubt could Lord Stark have over those facts?"

I gape at my wife in disbelief as she trembles beneath her layers of clothing. Her eyes burn with a fury and a fear I've never seen before, but she seems so certain. My own wife defending my father's imprisonment, claiming the people she's distrusted her entire life are suddenly innocent. We've never been on opposite sides like this, I'm not even sure how to react. Everything I wish to say gets stuck in my throat the longer I stare at her flushed face.

"I trust my father, Ellie," I finally manage. "I do not trust your brother."

"You condemn us all to war," she murmurs in disdain. "One side will lose, you know that? One side will lose and who will suffer either way, Robb?"

"I have a duty, but you must believe that I will do everything to prevent your suffering," I promise. "Your pain is the last thing I ever want to cause."

The doors to the great hall open once more, but a less familiar face barrels through this time. I recognize him enough to know he joined my father when he left for King's Landing so I'm confused as to how he's still alive. The letter from Sansa said all his men were butchered when Father was arrested.

The man rushes forward, bowing quickly before wiping the sweat from his brow.

"My lord, my lady," he greets.

Ellie's glare melts to an exhausted stare as she shifts her attention to him.

"Lord Stark sent me with this letter," the man says, showing the rolled parchment in his hand as he meets my wife's gaze.

"Give it here then," I tell him, stepping forward.

"Forgive me, my lord, but Lord Stark instructed me to give this directly to the Princess."

"The princess?" I repeat in surprise. Why would my father call her by the title that was replaced the moment we were wed?

More importantly, why is he only writing to my wife?

Ellie appears just as confused, but takes the letter anyway, breaking the Stark seal as she opens it. I watch the phases of her expression as her eyes scan the words my father wrote and her fists tighten over the parchment. When she's finished, the heat in her eyes returns full force and the messenger nearly stumble backwards when my wife turns the glare towards him.

"What is this?" she asks in an eerily calm voice.

"My lady, I did not read it. Lord Stark sent me here by ship, told me to travel as fast as possible, and give it to you."

"What does it say?" I question.

"It's an outrageous lie," Ellie growls in reply. "A made-up notion, a disgusting accusation. It's no wonder you've gone mad, you clearly take after your father!"

"What the hell does it say?" I demand in offense, snatching the letter from her hand.

"I'm my father's only child," she says as I read it for myself. "My brothers and sister are bastards fathered by my Uncle Jaime."

"That's why he said Joffrey isn't the rightful heir," I mutter. "Because you are."

"He's wrong," she argues. "He may not be lying, but he is mistaken, Robb. You can't tell me you believe this."

"You're the rightful heir, Ellie. You –"

"No, I'm not!" she shouts as her tears escape. "Joffrey is the king. My father is dead and I will not disgrace my mother by listening to such – such _filth_!"

Shaking her head rapidly as if trying to repel the truth, Ellie stumbles backwards, spinning on her heel, and running out of the great hall. I call after her, but get no response. Turning to the man who brought the letter, I thank him and then follow the path my wife took. I find her in our chambers, curled up on our bed and weeping. Sighing sadly, I stare at her as sobs shudder through her body, visible even beneath the thick, unneeded cloak. Then, I realize something.

Ellie believes my father.

She wasn't trying to convince me that he was wrong, she was trying to convince herself. If she truly thought him a liar, why would his words break her heart this way?

"Ellie," I say gently, moving to sit on the edge of our bed.

"It's not true," she insists, her voice muffled by the covers where her head is buried. "It can't be."

As much as it pains me to hurt her, I must force her to admit the truth. Our enemies are in the south and I cannot have my wife siding with them. She promised to stand against them when the time came, but this is something we never could have imagined. Her mother has committed a terrible crime and to cover it up, she arrests my father and holds my sisters hostage. A boy born from incest sits on the Iron Throne which belongs to the only true-born child of Robert Baratheon.

My wife is no longer going against her uncle for hurting my brother, she's against her entire family to protect mine. It's a difficult thing to ask, but I'll do it anyway.

"I know it's hard to believe," I murmur. "But think about it, Ellie. Look at my brothers and sisters, we all share similarities. We all look like our parents, a mixture of them. You have the Baratheon look, black hair, blue eyes. Yet, you have your mother's features. Your brothers and sister look nothing like your father. Yellow hair, green eyes, not even the same nose as your father. They look like _their_ father."

Ellie lifts her head to reveal the trails of tears streaking her cheeks.

"Hard to believe," she scoffs quietly. "Not three months ago, we were just getting married. The only thing that scared me was Sansa having to marry Joffrey. I only feared that because my brother is a cruel, little brat. Now, my father is dead, my father-by-law is imprisoned, my mother lays with her brother, and my own brother is a bastard. And worst of all, my husband prepares for war. _Hard to believe_."

"My father has never lied. He trusts you, believes in you," I say, holding the letter up for her to see again. "Putting all that aside, though. Forgetting who the Iron Throne belongs to, forgetting what your mother has done, think about this, Ellie. My father and sisters, people who you love and who love you in return, are being held in that castle. My father has been arrested and charged with treason. You know the sentence for treason."

She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping, perhaps, to block out my words.

"If we don't march on King's Landing, they will execute him. They will kill my father and gods know what they'll do to my sisters. You'd let that happen?" I question. "You'd let that happen just because it's hard to believe?"

"What do you want me to do?" she asks shakily. "Take the Iron Throne? Rule the Seven Kingdoms? Kill my brother and my mother?"

"No," I answer firmly. My hand finds her cheek, my thumb sweeping away tears. "I want you to stand by me as you said you would. Stand by _our_ family."

"We were so happy for such a short amount of time," she whispers brokenly.

"We'll be even happier when this over. I promise you that, Ellie."

"Okay," she sighs.

"You'll stand by me as my wife?" I ask. "Now and always?"

"Now and always," she agrees.

…

Eliana's POV

"Eliana!" Robb comes bursting through our door, calling out loudly. His eyes flash with frustration when they meet mine.

"Robb?" I greet plainly, glancing at the other person in the room.

My husband's gaze follows and he nods in acknowledgment. "Maester Luwin, would you mind if I speak with my wife alone?"

The maester looks to me, clearly not wanting to leave before finishing our conversation. He came to discuss my health again even though I continue to dismiss his concerns. I assure him it's nothing more than stress and I can tell he still doesn't believe me, but he nods anyway. He bows to both of us and exits the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

"What's the problem?"

"You told the boys you're staying here?" Robb demands.

"I am staying here," I tell him. "Is it a secret?"

"You are not staying here, Ellie. I thought that was clear."

"Why would I go with you to fight a war? What good will I do on the battlefield?"

"You're not going to be on the battlefield, but you will march with us. You're Lady Stark and the only Baratheon princess, you have the only true claim to the throne. You know the Lannisters better than anyone else, you know King's Landing, I need you," he insists.

"Robb, what about the boys? I'm not just going to leave Bran and Rickon here alone."

"They won't be alone," he assures.

"I'm not leaving them," I repeat.

"We're not bringing children with us, we can't."

"Then, I'm staying here."

"You are not," he argues.

"I am," I tell him through gritted teeth. "Stop telling me what to do."

"You're my wife."

"So, you own me now, is that it?" I demand incredulously. "We're married so you get to dictate what I do?"

"We're leaving tonight," he says. "Pack your things, Eliana, or I'll send someone to do it for you."

Robb leaves with a warning glare that silences the rest of my argument. I'm left in utter disbelief at my husband's attitude change. Everything is putting a strain on our marriage, but I made my choice. I chose to put being his wife above all else, so why is there still a rift between us? And since when does he treat me like property rather than the woman he loves?

…

"You said you were staying," Rickon argues.

"I thought I was, love, but I have to go with your brother," I sigh.

"You said you were staying, you promised! You're leaving just like the rest of them!"

"We'll be back soon," I swear. "With your mother and father and your sisters. You and Bran will be so busy taking care of Winterfell, you'll hardly notice we're gone."

"You're not coming back," he predicts solemnly and a chill runs down my spine from the six-year-old's words. "None of you."

"Rickon," I begin, but the words get stuck in my throat.

Tears well in his sweet eyes as he stares up at me like I've betrayed him. My own fear surfaces as all the dangers this decision holds escape the chest I've stuffed them in under lock and key. Instead of giving him more words he won't believe, I pull him into my arms and fight the sob building in my chest as I hug him close. Rickon's little arms return the embrace, making it even harder for me to leave than it already was, but I have no choice.

Pulling away, I kiss the top of his head and leave him with another parting promise.

Outside his bedroom, I can no longer choke back my cries. I practically have to run out of the castle just to ensure that I'll actually leave. As we pass through the walls of Winterfell, my horse trotting beside Robb's, a terrible cold sets into my bones. The life I always wanted had finally begun and now I abandon it knowing I can never have it back. Whether we win or not, nothing will be the same and the childhood fantasy I clung to for so long will never exist again.

…

Small flakes of summer snow sprinkle the ground, decorating my hair and dress. I sit on my cloak laid out on the grass and stare at the river. Listening to men talk of battle plans inside a grey tent has already grown tiring and we've not been away from Winterfell three weeks yet. At least, Robb and I are in a better place. My anger towards him for forcing me to leave his brothers behind has faded and he hasn't commanded me to do anything more. Funny enough, I actually enjoy watching him command everyone else.

"You'll catch a fever without your cloak on," a familiar voice chastises kindly. Glancing up, I take in the sight of Lady Catelyn smiling fondly at me.

"Cat!" I greet in relief, climbing to my feet. "I didn't think I'd see you here."

My mother-by-law pulls me into a tight embrace, warming my skin. "I did not think I'd be here."

"I'm glad you are," I murmur.

"I'm so sorry about your father, Eliana," she tells me genuinely, pulling away to meet my eyes.

"I should be sorry. My family's crimes –"

"Are not yours," Cat finishes.

"It feels like they are," I admit.

"That's because you love them and you are not expected to stop," she says, cupping my cheek with a reassuring smile. "Come on, get your cloak back on."

Lady Cat picks up the thick, grey fabric and drapes it around my shoulders, but as her gaze lowers, her hands go still on my arms.

"What's this?" she questions, suddenly touching my stomach.

"Uh, my belly?" I mumble in confusion. I've noticed it's not as flat as it used to be, but I thought I'd just been eating too much.

"My sweet girl, how long has it been swollen like this?" Cat asks.

"I don't know," I answer quickly, self-consciously shielding it from view with my cloak. "I haven't gained that much weight."

"This isn't weight," she says with a tearful smile. "This is a baby."

* * *

Hey again!

So, I actually didn't intend to have three POV's in this chapter. I hope it wasn't too much. Originally, it was just Robb and Eliana, but I had a request for a scene with Jon and Sam. I'm not sure how good it came out so let me know what you guys think! Also, there was a request for another Ned POV, but I wasn't able to fit that in and I apologize for that. I love requests, though, so keep sending them to me and I'll do my best to fit them into the story.

To answer the two questions asked, Theon will take Winterfell, but I'm still working out the details for the Red Wedding. It obviously won't happen the same way it happened in the show, but something like it will be coming.

I'd really like to hear what everyone thought of Ellie's reactions and her fights with Robb. I'd also like to know how you all feel about the baby!

Thank you so much, as always, for reading. Special thanks to everyone who reviews, favorites, follows, and continues to come back! I appreciate you all so much!

See you next time,

-V :)


	13. Chapter 13

"I – I haven't put on that much weight! It's barely a bump!"

"Ellie, I have mothered five children, I can recognize when a woman is with child."

"N-no," I argue. "I would have noticed."

"When was the last time you bled?" Cat questions.

"Well, it was – it was…" I trail off as I truly think about the answer and realize it's been months.

"Before the wedding," my mother-by-law guesses and I nod slowly. "Ellie, my dear, you are going to be a mother."

"No, that – that can't happen, not yet," I tell her. "Not right now. Not – not with all of this."

"The gods disagree," she says. "I know it's scary, but this is what you've always wanted."

"I do want this, but – but…" The news starts to sink in as well as the panic. Tears well up as I stare wide-eyed at Lady Catelyn. "How am I supposed to do this?"

"Come now," she murmurs, pulling me into another hug. "I reacted just the same when I found out I was carrying Robb. I understand completely. It will all be okay, though. I promise you that."

"What if I'm a horrible mother? What if something bad happens? What if I can't –"

"You can plague yourself with these questions for the rest of your life, Ellie. That's just part of motherhood." Cat takes one of my shaking hands and places it over my belly that's barely swelled. "There is a life in here, a beautiful person, half you and half Robb. There is no greater gift than this."

Looking down at my dress, I can barely see the change in my stomach, but I know she's right. There's a life growing inside of me and that's the scariest and most wonderful thought I've ever had.

…

I don't tell Robb right away. First, I justify it because we needed to focus on crossing the Twins. However, when Lady Cat returned with Lord Frey's conditions – that one of his sons be Robb's squire and another marry Arya in the future – I lost that excuse. Now, I realize that I'm terrified to say the words aloud. My mother-by-law enjoys saying it, but I can't seem to get it out no matter how hard I try. It's like I fear what the world could do to my child when I whisper their existence even before they're born.

Robb is attacking my uncle's army soon; the hours slip by quickly as he prepares to leave. Thankfully, I've spent the day trying to tell him instead of worrying myself like crazy with the fear of him going off to his first real battle. Though, I know that reprieve will soon die since I pace our tent, waiting for him to return.

"Ellie?" He calls before he enters. I halt in the center of the tent as he comes to stand before me, blue eyes wide with concern. "What's wrong? Mother said you needed me."

"No, I – I just need to talk to you about something," I say quickly.

"What is it?" he questions.

"I know you're busy and this probably isn't the best time," I mutter in a rush to get the words out, but I falter. My hands shake and my vision blurs as nervous tears get in the way. "It's important, I just…"

"Hey," he stops me gently, taking my face in his hands. "Why are you crying? Is it the battle?"

"No, well, yes, but no," I fumble.

"Just tell me," he presses, sweeping his thumbs beneath my eyes. "It's okay."

"You have to come back, Robb."

"Of course," he agrees in bemusement. "That's the plan."

"Not just for me," I clarify. "For us."

"Us?"

Reaching up, I remove one of his hands from my cheek and place it on my belly. " _Us_."

Robb nods in assurance automatically, wanting to comfort me without even understanding what I mean. He glances down at our hands and I carefully watch his expression as it starts to change. His brows shoot up in surprise as he meets my gaze again.

"What, now?" he asks. "What are you saying?"

"You're – you're going to be a father," I whisper.

"Are you certain?" he demands.

"Are you angry with me?" I reply in fear.

"Angry?" Robb exhales in disbelief. "You're my wife and – and you're carrying our child."

"I'm afraid," I admit.

He releases a shaky laugh and nods in agreement, but his smile is the brightest I've seen since our wedding night. "I think I am too, but…"

"But?" I press cautiously.

"I love you," he tells me, cupping my cheeks again. "Do you hear me? I love you."

"I love you, too."

Robb's kiss calms all my fears for a brief moment and reminds me how much I've always wanted this – a husband who loves me and a child with him. I forget we're in an army encampment with a few short hours to go before he rides off to fight and all the other horrible problems we face. We're just a husband and wife celebrating the newest addition to our family.

…

"We should go, my ladies," Ser Rodrik insists.

"No!" Cat argues sharply.

Nervously, we wait on our horses, staring at the tree line, and praying that Robb rides through soon. I gnaw at my lip until it bleeds and nearly slip off the saddle from shaking so hard. If they don't return soon, I'm certain I'll lose my mind. Then, who'd raise our child?

Ser Rodrik continues trying to convince us to leave before it's too late, but then I hear it. There has never been a more welcome sound than hoofs barreling against dirt. Men break through the trees and my husband is at the front, leading them. I don't even realize I'm crying until the tears drip from my chin.

I slide off my horse and run to meet Robb as soon as he's close enough. He catches me in his arms with ease when we reach each other, holding me in a tight embrace. My fingers tangle in his auburn curls as I pull him into a passionate kiss. I refuse to release him until we're both breathless and the only reason I don't kiss him again is because everyone has gathered around us.

"By the time they knew what was happening, it had already happened," he explains the victory after Cat hugs her son in relief.

Two men drag a prisoner forward, roughly depositing him onto the dirt in front of us. My eyes widen as he pushes himself up on his knees. Even covered in blood and grime, I recognize my Uncle Jaime immediately.

"Lady Stark, dearest niece," he greets arrogantly, despite his condition. "I'd offer you my sword, but I seem to have lost it."

"It's not your sword I want," Cat replies scornfully. "Give me my daughters back. Give me my husband."

"I've lost them too, I'm afraid."

"Do you think this a joke, Uncle?" I question with a raised brow.

"Of course not," he assures, yet the smirk remains.

"Kill him, Robb," Theon suggests. "Send his head to his father."

"He's more use to us alive than dead," Robb says.

"We could end this war right now, boy, save thousands of lives," my uncle tells him. "You fight for the Starks, I fight for the Lannisters, choose your weapons, and let's end this here and now."

I look at my husband in question as he glares down at the seasoned swordsman. My fear is quickly squashed, however, when Robb shows his intelligence.

"If we do it your way, Kingslayer, you'd win," he says. "We're not doing it your way."

"Take him away and put him in irons," I order and the two men who dropped him now pull him to his feet.

"You'd betray your house, Eliana? Your family?" he asks quickly.

"I betray no one, Uncle Jaime," I answer. "I stand with my family, now and always."

…

In the privacy of our tent, Robb slumps into a chair, exhausted from the battle. The decisions he's forced to make as a leader already haunt him, that much was made clear by his speech after they took my uncle away. He made an expert decision to send that small part of the army to fight my grandfather while the rest faced Jaime, but now two thousand lives of his own men weigh on his shoulders along with all those of the enemy he killed.

"It's okay to be proud, you know? Happy, even," I tell him quietly, moving to stand beside the chair. My nimble fingers begin to release the knots and buckles holding his armor together. "They call you a boy, green, but you took the Kingslayer prisoner and won your first battle. Who can the same?"

"I am proud, but we've no time to celebrate," he says. "On to the next battle, we cannot rest until my father and sisters are saved."

I carefully remove the protective plates and set them on the table until he's left in his tunic. Moving behind him, my hands massage the tension and stress from his shoulders. Robb sighs in relief, bringing a smile to my lips as he melts beneath my touch.

I lean down to whisper in his ear, "It wasn't rest I was thinking about."

Pressing a kiss against his neck, I move around to sit on his lap as he straightens up in the chair. Caressing his cheek, Robb catches my wrist and kisses my palm before bringing me closer to kiss my lips. My fingers tangle in his hair again as his press into my waist and I meet his sweet kiss with much more fervor.

"You don't want me to wash first?" he asks softly as we break apart for a moment.

I meet his lips with mine again before responding, "I can't wait. You smell like victory anyway."

"You smell like home," Robb murmurs. I smile as he pulls me back once more.

…

I find him in the woods after Lady Cat and I are given the horrible news. He beats the trunk of a tree with his sword, pieces of bark flying every which way as I approach.

"Robb," I call out, but his grunts of frustration drown out my voice. "Robb!"

He stops his movements and turns to me so I can see the tears reddening his eyes. His chest heaves heavily as the pain I know well threatens to suffocate him. My heart has already broken from losing my own father and bleeds now for the man who raised me as his own since I was ten. However, it seems to shatter to pieces as I stare at my husband suffering now.

When I reach Robb, I pry the weapon from his gloved hand and drop it to the ground before wrapping him in my arms. My husband, who has now led men to war and back, cries against my shoulder while tears fill my eyes as well.

It was my brother who did this. My own flesh and blood. I chose the Stark's side in this war, but guilt still ate away at the edges of my heart for going against the other half of my family. However, I no longer feel that way. Joffrey beheaded my father-by-law, stole Ned from his children and wife. I cannot forgive this, especially while I hold my husband as he cries.

"They'll pay for this," I promise him.

"I'll kill them all," he swears before his voice cracks from a sob. "Every one of them."

" _We_ will," I correct. "We will."

...

Only days pass after Ned's death when we hear word that my Uncle Renly has crowned himself king. I imagine my Uncle Stannis will do the same soon if his younger brother believes he has a claim to the throne. They're all wrong, of course. The Iron Throne belongs to me and me only, but I have no desire for it. The only reason I care to make a claim is to ensure my brother cannot harm another member of my family. Westeros can be ruled by that bastard, but my family cannot.

I say just that to all of Robb's lords as we gather beneath the moonlight to discuss our next course of action. The men agree wholeheartedly and the Greatjon stands before us.

"Here is what I say," the older man announces. He draws his sword and points it at Robb beside me. "There sits the only king I mean to bend my knee to – the King in the North!"

My eyes widen as the Greatjon kneels before my husband. After a moment, Robb stands, gazing out at the rest of his men, waiting for them to react.

"I'll have peace on those terms," another lord declares, kneeling as well. "They can keep their red castle and their iron chair too. The King in the North!"

"Am I your brother, now and always?" Theon asks as he stands.

"Now and always," Robb agrees.

Theon draws his sword and kneels in front of him. "My sword is yours, in victory and defeat, from this day until my last day."

"The King in the North!" Greatjon yells.

"The King in the North! The King in the North!

The chant fills the camp as swords are drawn and pledged to my husband. There's great danger in this declaration and no matter how much I try to fight it, fear settles deep in my bones. Our fates are forever changed tonight and I'm not sure how to feel about it, but then Robb turns to me, offering his hand. I allow him to pull me to my feet and stand next to the newly crowned king as his men cheer for him.

Perhaps, everything has changed, terrifying me, but these people believe in my husband. They promise their lives to Robb regardless of any fear of their own. Looking at the man beside me, I remember my fate has been bound to his since birth and will remain that way until death. I didn't choose it, I couldn't, but I do now. I choose to put my fear aside and agree with this completely. I'll leave no room for doubt as I also declare the man I love as the 'King in the North.'

…

"Your Grace," the guards bow when I stop in front of them.

"I'd like to speak to him," I say. They hesitate for only a moment before moving aside.

I find him chained to the post, blood dried beneath the place where Cat hit him with a rock. He looks up in surprise and still manages the smug smirk I've known since childhood.

"Dearest niece," he greets tiredly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"'Dearest niece,' I'm your only niece," I remind him. "There's no need to pretend it isn't the truth. It insults my intelligence."

"We're still family, are we not? You'll stand and watch the man you were forced to marry try and destroy your house? Betray us all?"

"Who do I betray, Uncle? My half-brother who killed my father-by-law or my mother who allowed it to happen?"

"You betray yourself, Eliana," he says with a disappointed shake of the head. "The only reason you're even married to the Stark boy is because your father remained obsessed with his aunt even after winning the throne. They're nothing. We're blood."

"Nothing?" My hand finds my belly, covering the unnoticeable swelling, and his green eyes follow. "What has our blood done? Kill a man I loved as much as I loved my own father. Commit a horrible sin, birthing children of incest?"

"We all make mistakes," he tells me, tearing his eyes away from my abdomen as I kneel in front of him.

"Yes, we do," I agree, reminded of my own sin. "I made a costly one. It took more lives than I can count."

"What would that be?" Jaime questions.

"You pushed Bran from the tower, did you send the assassin with the dagger?" I ask. He doesn't answer, but I read his eyes and find him innocent of the second attempt of murder. "Someone told Lady Catelyn the dagger belonged to Tyrion, that's why she took him prisoner. I could have prevented that."

"You told them you didn't know who it belonged to," he concludes easily. "I've never known you to lie, Ellie."

"I thought I was protecting my blood. Even guilty, I still wanted to protect my family," I continue. "I caused more harm than good. I protected no one."

"And now _you_ are guilty. Have you told your husband?" Jaime's smirk returns as I stare at him in silence, swallowing the lump in my throat. "You haven't? You needn't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"You say they're nothing, but I love them and they have never hurt me as my blood has," I murmur. "Your son has made it easy for me, though. I was torn between two sides, afraid for both, but now – now I know who is right and who is wrong. Now, I will make sure my blood never harms my family again."

* * *

This chapter isn't too eventful, but I hope everyone enjoyed it anyway. I'm sorry if Jaime was OOC, let me know if I was just crazy off with him.

So, the time frame is going to get confusing after this. It's difficult to tell how much time is passing during the show, but I have to be careful with it since there's a baby on the way. I found this great ASOIAF timeline that someone made on Google sheets. It's so amazing, just search that and you should find it if you're curious. My story follows the TV show more, but I'm using that as a guide. Just let me know if you have questions about the timeline and I'll be happy to answer.

Thank you so much for the reviews. I love hearing what everyone thinks about this and reviews are so encouraging! Please keep reviewing, I really love it!

Thank you, as always, for reading, favoriting, and following!

See you next time,

-V :)


	14. Chapter 14

"Third," Robb continues his list of terms for my distant cousin Alton to take to my mother and brother, "Joffrey and the Queen Regent must renounce all claim to dominion of the North. From this time until the end of time, we are a free and independent kingdom."

Alton's jaw drops as he stares wide-eyed at Robb. The shock consumes him even more when Ser Rodrik and the others once again declare my husband King in the North. His gaze shifts to mine in disbelief, but I just nod in confirmation with a satisfied smirk. I don't know Ser Alton, I'm sure I met him once before, but I don't even remember which Lannisters are his parents.

"Neither Joffrey nor any of his men shall set foot in our lands again," Robb says, forcing my cousin to look at him once more. "If he disregards this command, he shall suffer the same fate as my father, only I don't need a servant to do my beheading for me."

"These are – Your Grace –" Alton stumbles over his words, looking nervously from my husband to me and back. "These are –"

"These are my terms," Robb finishes, standing from his seat. "If the Queen Regent and her son meet them, I'll give them peace. If not, I will litter the south with Lannister dead."

"King Joffrey is a Baratheon, Your Grace," Ser Alton argues, glancing at me.

"Oh, is he?" he returns. Robb also looks at me, offering a hand so I'll stand beside him, and nodding for me to speak. My cousin grows even more surprised when he takes in the size of my belly.

"It's imperative that you make them understand what will happen if they don't accept these terms, Cousin. The Iron Throne is mine by right, but I will only take it if he forces my hand. Accept the terms of peace and we return North, deny them…" I turn to Robb so he'll enforce my words.

"Deny them and die. You ride at daybreak, Ser Alton."

When my cousin is taken away and all the lords leave aside from Theon, Robb places a hand on my swollen belly and kisses my temple.

"Are you going to bed?" he asks.

"Soon, yes," I say.

My husband nods and I leave the tent as well, but I don't go straight to the one where we sleep. Instead, I head to the one where the ravens are kept. The soldier responsible for the messages sent and received in the encampment bows with a smile when I arrive, but mine is forced in return.

"Your Grace, do you need a raven?"

"No, I just wanted to know if there's been any word from Castle Black?"

"No, I'm sorry, Your Grace," he tells me.

"Right, thank you," I mumble before leaving.

It's been nearly eight weeks since Joffrey killed Ned Stark and just as many since I sent my first letter to Jon at the Wall. I've sent one each week, but haven't gotten a word of reply. If something bad had happened to him, we would have received a message from the Lord Commander or the Maester, so it's good on that front. I can find comfort in the fact he's safe, but it also means he's probably angry with me. It was _my_ brother who beheaded his father, Robb and Cat might not blame me, but someone could. Jon could.

Back in my tent, I lie in bed alone, tossing and turning until I finally give up on trying to sleep. Instead, I sulk in one of the chairs while rubbing circles over my belly. I've started to feel the baby move, little kicks to remind me he's growing. I mostly feel them at night, although the little one went a bit crazy during the last battle his father fought. Now, his – the last maester I saw and Cat are quite certain I'm carrying a boy – feet bump against his haven, tickling my abdomen in the process.

Despite the baby asking for attention, my worries still eat away at me. I can't undo what my brother has done, but I understand why he wouldn't reply to my many letters. I know the pain of losing your father and Jon already has no mother. It tears me apart knowing my dearest friend hates me, but I can live with it if he would just send word. If he would just tell me, at the very least, that he's managing the pain, I could rest. I dream of seeing his face, hearing voice, but I'd settle for just seeing his hand on parchment.

"You're still awake?" Robb's surprised voice startles me from my thoughts and I glance at him guiltily, as if he could hear them.

"I thought you'd come back sooner," I say as Greywind comes to be pet before lying at my feet.

"Yes, I was busy making decisions my mother doesn't approve," he explains. "I'm sending her to the Stormlands to treat with your uncle."

"Why are you sending your mother?" I question as I sit up straighter. "Surely, I would have an easier time at it."

"You're carrying our child, I'm not going send my pregnant wife away," he sighs. "And aside from you, I trust no one more than her."

"I can ride a horse and speak to people," I grumble. "Our baby hasn't taken those abilities."

"Actually, I recall the maester saying you shouldn't be riding unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Whatever," I quip. "What other decisions did you make after I left?"

"One you will dislike as well," he admits as I stare at him cautiously. He doesn't answer until he's sitting in the chair in front of mine. "Theon is going to Pyke to bring the Iron Islanders to our side."

"The Iron Islanders," I scoff. "I hope your heart isn't set on that."

"It will work," Robb assures. "I trust Theon."

"I know you do," I mumble.

Robb grows concerned with my weariness and leans forward to place his hands on my knees. "What's wrong, Ellie? What's kept you awake?"

"Nothing," I sigh.

"You don't have to lie. What worries you?"

Jon has been worrying me since the day he left Winterfell, but I've had no one to share it with. I didn't dare speak his name to Robb for fear he would find out what happened before the wedding. I could never confide in Lady Cat because of her resentment towards him. Who else was there to share my fears with when the person I always went to was the one on whom my fears were focused?

Now, my husband gazes at me with so much concern, daggers dig into my heart. If he knew my love for his half-brother was comparable to my love for him, I'm sure he'd never forgive me, but the words still fall from my tongue, desperate to escape.

"Your brother," I whisper.

"Bran?" he questions in confusion.

I shake my head, "Jon."

"Why are you worried about Jon?"

"I wrote to him, I've been writing, but I haven't gotten a reply," I say in a rush.

"We'd know if something happened to him," he reminds me. "I imagine, he's a ranger by now, exploring what lies beyond the Wall, fighting wildlings."

"Or he hates me," I murmur.

"Jon could never hate you, Ellie," Robb says, squeezing my knees before standing.

That's what he told me when we said goodbye.

…

The weeks pass all the same. We travel further south, Robb rides off to battle and returns in victory, and my belly grows larger. Without Lady Cat around, I have an infinite amount of time to worry about everything. I still haven't heard from Jon, my husband is still fighting a war, and motherhood gets closer with every minute that goes by while I remain unprepared.

My anxiety only worsens the more uncomfortable I become from this pregnancy. My back hurts and my feet are unbearably swollen. The baby kicks nonstop as soon as I lay down to sleep each night so I'm always exhausted. Worst of all, I keep crying. Every little thing brings tears to my eyes. Greywind followed Robb out of our tent the other night while I was petting him and I cried because I thought the direwolf hated me now. Even though I know I'm being ridiculous, my emotions continue to spiral.

"Perhaps, you would be more comfortable in bed, Your Grace," Lord Bolton suggests as I shift in my chair again.

I turn a sharp look on him. "Perhaps, _you_ would be more comfortable if I were in bed, my lord."

"I meant no offense, my queen," he says carefully.

"What word do you have on my mother?" Robb questions before I can snap at the other man again.

"None yet, Your Grace. It is said she fled with a member of Renly Baratheon's Kingsguard after he was murdered. She'll return soon, I imagine."

"What will happen to my uncle's army? Whose side will they flock to?"

"Not ours," Lord Bolton tells me.

Everything about Roose Bolton irritates me and has long before I became pregnant. I met him at the wedding and even his voice grates against my nerves. He's arrogant, easily bothered, and has no respect for women. He serves my husband as expected, but I believe it bothers him to bend the knee to one so young. It bothers him even more that I serve on the war council which is why he likes to speak down to me as if I don't understand what's happening.

"Obviously," I nearly growl, but Robb shoots me a warning look.

"We may be able to convince House Tyrell to join our forces," another lord says.

Irritated beyond belief, I struggle to my feet and waddle out of the tent in silence. I have no patience left, I'll lose my mind if this baby doesn't come soon. They never tell you about this part of carrying a child. They tell little girls it's their job to give their husband as many children as possible, but they wisely leave out how hard it on the wife. None of those men know what it's like to have your insides squished for months, but they have no problem looking at me like I'm overreacting or treating me like a child.

"Ellie," a familiar voice greets from behind me. I turn to find Lady Cat smiling brightly with a tall, yellow-haired woman with her.

"Cat," I sigh in relief as unnecessary tears sting my eyes.

"Look at you," she gushes. "It's almost time, isn't it?"

"Gods help me if it's not," I mumble tiredly as we embrace. Our hug is rather brief due to my large belly in between us, but it's enough to dismiss my anger towards the men. "I didn't expect you back so soon. I'm glad you're here."

"This is when it gets to be the hardest," she says in understanding. "It will all be worth it soon, though."

…

My groan of pain still fills the tent even as I clench my teeth to muffle it. Tears sting the corners of my eyes as I struggle to breathe through the intense cramps twisting the lower part of my belly. It suddenly subsides, leaving me panting and uncomfortable, but it's far better than screaming in agony.

"Here you are, sweet girl." Cat presses a wet rag to my forehead, cooling my clammy skin.

"I should have brought a maester," Robb says guiltily from my other side. "What was I thinking?"

"I don't need one yet," I tell him breathlessly.

"Lady Brienne will return soon with someone to help with the birth," she assures her son.

"No, I don't nee –" I'm cut off by another sharp clenching of my insides, too fierce to keep in my cry.

"The time has come, the baby will be born tonight, Eliana," Cat tells me.

"Do you hear that, Ellie? Our child will be here soon." Robb gives me a nervous, but excited smile which I rudely return with a glare.

"What part of 'not yet' do you two not understand?" I grumble.

The yellow-haired woman who stands taller than most enters my tent suddenly, bringing with her a thin, foreign girl. Lady Brienne, Cat's new sworn sword, bows rather than curtsies, but the woman she's brought greets us properly.

"Lady Talissa?" Robb acknowledges her in surprise. My eyes fly away from the pretty noblewoman to see my husband staring at her.

"Who are you?" I demand.

"Your Grace, I'm Talissa. I've been helping with the wounded," she explains.

Before I can answer, I'm hit with another wave of pain, nearly drowned by it. Lady Talissa has moved forward, standing at the end of my bed, by the time I catch my breath.

"Where are you from?" I question further.

"Volantis," Robb answers.

Turning another glare at him, he meets it with confusion. "How do you know that?"

"I've spoken to her before," he tells me innocently.

"Why?" I snap.

"Have you ever delivered a child?" Lady Cat asks as my head falls back against the pillows again. I squeeze my eyes shut and my hand tightens on Robb's until is passes.

"I have, my lady," the Volantis beauty says. "I can deliver this one."

"Good, Brienne, get her what she needs," Cat orders. Lady Talissa turns to the taller woman and tells her a list of things to find.

"May I, Your Grace?" She gestures to the sheet covering my legs.

"No, you may not," I quip.

"Ellie, let her do what she needs to," Robb commands gently. "It's for the baby."

"The baby is not coming tonight!" I shout as tears burn my eyes. I cry out again, but manage to speak through the pain. "I'm not having it. I changed my mind!"

"Ellie," he murmurs worriedly, brushing the damp hair from my face.

"I can't do it," I tell him. "Please don't make me."

My husband looks lost for words, concern etching across his features as he struggles to find a way to comfort me. "This is what you've always wanted, though. You want to be a mother."

"Not here," I cry through the sharp twisting. "Not in military encampment. Not so far from home. Not during a war!"

Robb glance away as guilt fills his eyes while tears spill from mine.

"Give us a minute," Cat requests. Talissa curtsies again before leaving, but Robb tries to argue. "You're not going to miss anything, my son."

The agony continues to come and go more quickly now. Cat dabs the rag over my heated face after rinsing it again before she speaks.

"I know you're afraid," she murmurs. "Being a mother is far scarier business than war. Running into a thousand battles couldn't compare. It's okay to be scared, but soon this part will be over and you will hold your baby and everything will change."

"I want to go home," I whisper. "I just want to go home."

"Soon, Ellie," she promises. "And this child will still be at your breast when we return to Winterfell. And you'll have a wonderful tale for your little prince or princess about how they were born in the heat of battle."

I scoff, but it gets mixed with a sob.

"Something only mothers can understand," she continues. "There's no fear quite as intense as the fear we have for our children and there's no love quite as intense as ours."

"Will he love me?" The question slips out, voicing a different fear I hadn't realized existed. I look at my mother-by-law's face, blurred by my tears, and see her warmest smile.

"Of course," Cat promises.

…

Wails of a babe reach my ears as the excruciating pain lessens to a dull ache and I gasp for breath. It takes what little strength I have left to lift my head and see over my bent knees to where Talissa stands. Cat lays a blanket on my chest as the other woman brings the squalling newborn to me.

"A prince, Your Grace," she tells me, laying my son on the blanket.

Everything else just vanishes. Lady Talissa and Lady Cat disappear, even Robb who sat beside me, holding my hand, and whispering his love is no longer on my mind. Only the little one, squirming and pink, cradled in my arms, exists now.

Cat was right, only seconds in the world and this baby has changed everything. A warmth I've never experienced before fills my heart, my chest, my whole being, and I don't think I'll ever be cold again. He's so beautiful, so impossibly perfect. I'm overwhelmed by joy and wonder and endless love. I would think something so wonderful wouldn't feel real, but his dark blue eyes stare up at mine, trying to focus with all their might, and I touch his little hand with my finger which he grasps as tightly as he's capable of now, and I know it's the realest thing to ever happen.

This baby is my son and he is, without a doubt, the most important thing to ever exist.

…

"He's so perfect," Robb murmurs as he holds the baby wrapped in a blanket. "Our son."

I can't decide who he resembles more yet. A thin crown of auburn sits atop his little head and he has Robb's nose, but rather than the Tully blue of his father's eyes, he has the Baratheon blue like mine. He's a mixture, I suppose, a perfect split between us. It wouldn't matter, anyway, I could stare at him for the rest of my life. He's so beautiful, I can hardly believe he's mine, _ours_.

Robb returns him to me, clearly sensing how anxious I've grown to hold the baby again. He smiles lovingly at both of us, pressing a sweet kiss to my temple as I softly trace our son's pink cheek.

"I've thought of a name," I say, careful not to disturb the sleeping angel.

"Let's hear it, then," he tells me, climbing into the bed, and wrapping an around my shoulders.

I glance at him, looking into his eyes before answering, "Eddard."

His eyes widen in surprise as he considers this way of honoring his father.

"Don't you think he looks like a little Ned?"

"I do," Robb agrees with a sad smile. "You know I love you, right?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice," I tease as I meet his lips with a brief kiss.

"Little Ned," he repeats, looking at our son.

"He'll be as brave and honorable as his father and his grandfather."

"And as good and kind as his mother," Robb adds.

I want him to be good and kind as well, but I hope the sparkle in his sweet eyes is a touch of wildness. I hope he craves freedom from all restraints like I do and, more importantly, I hope he finds it even as a king.

* * *

Hello all!

Yay! Little Ned is born! So, I'm actually trying to condense chapters I've already written to make the Ellie/Jon reunion come sooner because I know everyone has been waiting and I really want them together again as well! That's why so much time has been skipped over and a lot of details about the actual war aren't being shown. For example, there was a part about Theon taking Winterfell, but I took it out because it didn't seem that important.

To answer some questions I got in a review: I have the chapter written with Jon and Eliana's reunion, but I'm trying to move it up so it'll be sooner and Jon does not know about the baby and won't until they meet again. As for his reaction, I'm still dabbling with that part.

Please review! I would really love to get some more feedback because it would mean the world to me!

Thank you, as always, for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following!

-V :)


	15. Chapter 15

It's very difficult for me to pay attention to anything other than my son. Little Ned makes the whole war cease to exist. His sweet giggle blocks out the sound of men marching, his bright smile takes us away from the military encampment, and holding his tiny form warms everything from the Riverlands to the Wall. Perhaps, he could melt all the snow and ice past it, all with a simple grin beaming brighter than sun.

Ned coos happily as I tickle his sides, squirming about on the bed. Time passes so quickly when you have a child and the baby grows so fast. It's as if I've blinked and now his reddish-brown hair is starting to thicken, he's strong enough to roll over on his own, and he takes great joy in listening to his father talk. It's bittersweet watching him grow with each passing day, but each morning I wake to find I love him more, a feat I thought was impossible.

"Your Grace," one of the soldiers burst into my tent, startling me. Instinctually, I shield my son protectively, but I know he is no threat. "They caught him, the Kingslayer."

Uncle Jaime escaped after murdering our cousin Alton and Torhen Karstark. Truth be told, I'm not surprised he found a way out of his pen and that he killed his guard, but I was little shocked when they showed me the young Lannister with his face beaten to death. Losing my uncle was unacceptable and in my husband's absence, I ordered forty men to find him. However, my concern for the search waned once I returned to my son and I haven't given it any thought today as I've been with little Ned the whole time.

"Put him back in his pen with more guards stationed there," I tell the man simply. "Make sure he's in there _alone_."

"I'm not sure he'll make it to the pen, Your Grace."

Sighing heavily, I move Ned back to his cradle and cover him with the blanket. I put on my cloak before exiting my tent, ordering the soldier to stay with my son, much to his confusion. I'll not leave my baby alone and I definitely won't take him to where men could be fighting.

Shoving through the crowd, I hear Lord Karstark and Cat arguing before I see them. I reach the center of what the army has gathered around and see my uncle kneeling in the mud, chained once more.

"What's the meaning of this?" I demand. "Put him the stockades!"

"Aye, Your Grace," the soldier holding the chain agrees, but he's stopped by other men.

"I've given an order, you will stand down!" I tell them.

"Your Grace," Lord Karstark shouts despite how close we stand. "I want his head, I want justice for my son!"

"And I want that for you, my lord, but his head is not yours to take," I say. "You will wait for my husband to return for the decision."

"Your husband hasn't lost _his_ son!"

"Your _king_ will make the decision and you will stand down," I growl. "Take Ser Jaime to the stockades!"

"When King Robb returns," Lord Karstark begins as the men drag my uncle away, "I will demand that murderer's head."

"Wise men do not make demands of kings," Cat warns.

"Fathers who love their sons do. I will have his head."

As Lord Karstark leaves, I realize fathers who love their sons will do much more than make demands of their kings and orders from their queen will be easily ignored in the name of justice. I'm not entirely sure my Uncle Jaime will survive the night, let alone until Robb returns from the Crag. I could station a hundred guards outside the pen, but will they truly defend the Kingslayer against their own brothers-in-arms.

…

I leave little Ned with his grandmother and Lady Brienne to go see my uncle. When I enter his pen, I see him wrapped in more chains than any other prisoner has ever needed. He peers up at me through the yellow hair obstructing his eyes and, yet again, manages a smirk.

"Beloved niece, come to release me?"

"Release you? No, I cannot do that, Uncle."

"You could, but you won't," he corrects and I nod in agreement. "So, why have you decided to grace me with your presence?"

That's a very good question, but I'm not sure I have an answer. All I know is that the longer I watched little Ned sleeping, the more I understood why Lord Karstark wanted justice at any cost. The more I understood, the louder the voice in my head told me my uncle wasn't going to survive. So, here I am looking down at the man who once stood tall as a valiant knight, my uncle the Kingsguard. He was an important part of my life when I was a child. I never enjoyed him like his brother, but I love him all the same.

"I heard you gave birth to a son," he says after realizing I'm not going to reply.

"I did, I thought to show you, but…"

"Don't want your baby breathing in all this shit?" he finishes.

I start to move closer and the guard behind me follows, but I hold up my hand to stop him. Kneeling in front of my uncle, I find myself curious about something I never considered.

"Do you love them?" I ask. His green eyes stare back at me with confusion so I clarify. "Your children, do you love them?"

The smirk falls away and, for the first time, I see a shred of remorse in his eyes. It disappoints me far more than I expect and I realize I thought something could finally redeem him for everything he's done. However, I fear it makes all his crimes worse.

"You don't," I murmur.

It makes me wonder how my father felt. It's not like he ever had an inkling of suspicion that my brothers and sister were not his own children. I remember believing that I had his love and lost it as a child because of my mother, but I don't think that's possible. I don't think a father or a mother can love their children one day and stop the next. I believe he did love me, he always favored me, and perhaps it's because blood recognizes blood. He may not have known the truth, but his blood knew I was his while the others were not.

Ned Stark loved his children without question, even his bastard. He was a good father, he taught them, cared for them, protected them. He was far better than any father I've ever met. And Lord Karstark, he clearly loves his children, even now as they lay in their graves. I know Robb loves our son, it was clear in his eyes the moment he saw our baby. So, how could a man with three not care for any of them?

"Unfortunately, I imagine your life will come to an end soon, Uncle. Having a child of my own has softened my heart a great deal so I won't watch them execute you. This is goodbye."

"Goodbye, Ellie."

…

I was right to say goodbye to my uncle, but he didn't die. Cat released him and sent him to King's Landing with Lady Brienne so her sworn sword can bring her daughters back. Robb and his bannermen are furious, the discord that has enveloped our camp is frightening. He has Cat guarded day and night, she isn't allowed to leave her tent, and I'm not even supposed to visit with her, but it isn't enough for many, like Lord Karstark.

Now, I fear for our footing in this war. Without a prized prisoner, we're just an outnumbered army. Of course, I know we've been outnumbered this entire time and my husband has led the men to victory every time, but something has changed. The purpose of this war was to save Lord Stark and the girls, then it became about freeing the North from my brother's and any false king's grasp. However, a year has passed and we're hundreds of miles away from home with no end in sight. Even I have started to doubt whether we should continue or just turn back.

Especially now.

"We can't stay here," I insist. "Let's camp outside of the castle walls."

"What are talking about?" Robb asks tiredly, whether from me or the long ride, I'm not sure.

"Harrenhal is cursed," I tell him.

"A common superstition, Your Grace, but nothing more," Lord Bolton tries to reassure me.

"It's haunted," I argue. "Two hundred of our men were slaughtered, not to mention the centuries of slain before it."

"The dead can't hurt us, Ellie," Robb promises. "The living can and they will given half a chance. The castle is much safer, for you and our son."

Robb kisses my forehead before leaving me holding our baby and gazing up worriedly at the melted stone. I'm not a fearful child believing every myth I'm told. Old Nan spun plenty of tales that I never gave any mind, but the Curse of Harrenhal has proved itself real time and again. Since Aegon the Conqueror and his dragons destroyed it and all who lived inside, no house has been able to hold it. They say the horrors began long before the Targaryens arrived, that Harren the Black mixed human blood in the mortar while it was being built.

It's a dangerous place and no soldier can protect us. My husband and Lord Bolton may not fear superstitions or ghosts, but I do because I can't protect my son from them.

…

"I told you Harrenhal is cursed," I murmur, dropping the raven scrolls in horror.

"My grandfather died of an illness and Theon is responsible for burning Winterfell," Robb sighs, clearly not in the mood to return to this conversation.

"Lord Tully has been ill for years and how long ago did Theon take Winterfell? We just so happen to get news on both as soon as we get here!"

"Well, you'll get to leave here like you want," he tells me. "We ride for Riverrun to attend the funeral."

"Wait, what? That doesn't make any sense."

"My grandfather has just died. What doesn't make sense about that?"

"It's the wrong direction!"

"My brothers are missing, now Mother's father is dead. You don't think she deserves to lay him to rest?" he argues. "My grandfather's bannermen have fought for us this entire war, does he not deserve the respect of our attendance?"

"Send your mother, send Ned and me, but you cannot backtrack, Robb. This is a war and you are the king."

"I know what this is and I know what I am, Eliana. I can't believe you don't want me to go to my own grandfather's funeral," he says in exasperation.

"My love, I am sorry for your loss. I'm sorry that we don't have more reassuring news about your brothers, you know I want them to be okay as much as you do, but we cannot afford –"

"Ellie, I'm begging you, enough. We're going to Riverrun and then we will continue our march."

…

"Another prayer wheel?" I take a seat beside Cat on a nearby boulder. Little Ned stirs in my arms, but remains asleep. "I suppose it worked the first time, didn't it? Bran woke up."

"After a fashion," Cat murmurs. "It wasn't the first time, though."

"What do you mean?" I ask curiously. "You made one before?"

"Many years ago," she explains quietly. "One of the boys came down with the pox. Maester Luwin said if he made it through the night, he'd live. But it would be a very long night. So, I sat with him all through the darkness. Listened to his ragged little breaths, his coughing, his whimpering."

"Which boy?" I question in confusion.

Robb never mentioned being dangerously ill. Of course, he wouldn't remember, but I imagine someone would have told him. It couldn't be Rickon unless it happened in the first couple of months of his life before I arrived in Winterfell.

"Jon Snow."

Even his name makes my heart ache. There hasn't been word from him or of him and I finally stopped sending letters. I may have given up writing, but he hasn't left my thoughts. I miss him so much it makes me sick. More often than not, I find myself dreaming of Winterfell. Whether it's of the past or a possible future, Jon is always there.

Cat continues the story of his sickness. She prayed the gods would take the baby away and when they listened, she prayed they let him stay. She promised the seven gods that if he lived, she would be his mother. If he lived, Jon would be a true Stark. Selfishly, as she explains her promise, I think of what life would be if I had been torn between my love for Robb Stark and Jon _Stark_. Would they have given me a choice? Who would I choose?

It doesn't matter, though. Lady Cat couldn't keep her promise to the gods. Jealousy is a dangerous thing and I know I can't judge her for it. Knowing Robb even talked to another woman seemed to twist me with irritation and possessiveness, I can't imagine what I would feel if he brought a baby to me who was mothered by someone else. Cat once told me it was one thing she could never forgive Lord Stark for, but I struggle to forgive her for Jon's mistreatment. Perhaps, he would have stayed in Winterfell if she treated him differently.

Though, I'm not sure I can blame anyone but myself for him leaving.

"And everything that's happened since then, all this horror that's come to my family, it's all because I couldn't love a motherless child."

Looking down at my own child, I start to fear the gods more than I thought possible. Is this their justice for a broken promise? I've done more than break a promise. I lied to them and costed more lives than I can count all because I couldn't say a knife belonged to my father. I've betrayed my blood, but if I hadn't, I would betray my husband. Either way, my sins build on top of each other and weigh me down, tying stones to my ankles and drowning me in the abyss.

If this is the gods' justice for Cat, what will justice be for me?

* * *

Hey everyone!

I apologize for the delay on this chapter. Things have been crazy the past few weeks with a vacation, a loss in the family, and moving back to school. However, I've gotten into a routine finally so updates should be steady now!

This isn't a very long or eventful chapter, but bear with me. We're so close to the Jon and Ellie reunion! I hope everyone enjoys it anyway and continues to read. Please, please, please review! It's so encouraging and I love hearing from you guys!

Thank you, as always, for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following.

Enjoy!

-V :)


	16. Chapter 16

_Ice._

 _There's ice stuck to everything. The gates, the stones, even the mud. I've grown used to summer snows and morning frost, but this is different. It's colder than anything I've ever felt, far surpassing that first day I came to Winterfell and experienced weather so unbelievably different than King's Landing. Now, my cloak is useless, my gloves too thin, and every breath creates a fog that would blind every sailor trying to cross the Narrow Sea._

 _This is Winterfell, it's just different than I remember. Theon and the Iron Islanders burned it. Now, the walls are charred, the wood crumbled, the castle empty. I stand in the center, the same courtyard I climbed out of my wheelhouse and met the Starks in when I was ten. The courtyard my family arrived in for my wedding and changed my fate forever._

 _I can hear the echoes of the past. Horses trotting, steel singing as boys practice, arrows whizzing towards targets, and children laughing. So many children laughing, running, teasing. A lifetime ago, I was one of those children and I feared nothing. Joffrey wasn't there to torment me, Mother wasn't there to scold me, all the men in armor weren't there to catch me and drag me back to insufferable lessons. Lord Stark let me do what I liked within reason, Lady Cat loved me as her own, and the others were the friends I never had._

 _Winterfell was so peaceful, happy, and safe. I realize now I had no fears. Even Old Nan's stories couldn't touch me. Perhaps, when I first arrived there were plenty of things to scare me, but once I felt at home, I was fearless. Then, that raven came with the news of Jon Arryn's death and my family's visit. They shattered everything long before the war. Now, there isn't any reason to laugh._

 _The silence is deafening, disheartening, until the rain starts. Tears spill from the sky as cold as snow and as sharp as broken glass. It fills the castle walls with a rumbling equivalent to a thousand horses galloping to war. Water begins to overcome the dirt, drowning the mud and my shoes. My ankles start to freeze and turn numb, but there's nowhere to step away from the pool forming._

 _Then, a heart-clenching sound rings in the distance. A baby's cry I know too well._

 _"Ned," I murmur, spinning in a circle. "Ned!"_

 _My son's cries bounce off the walls and I can't tell where it's coming from. I run in one direction, but my feet stomping through the water muffles his wails. I end up in the godswood, the rain nearly reaches my knees, the air barely reaches my lungs, but I keep going. Suddenly, Ned sounds closer and I hurry towards the Heart Tree._

 _Running has never been so difficult. I gasp to catch my breath while the rain tries to fill my chest. I fall before I find him, too weak to move. The water rises like a lake and I start to sink, but then I see my son. Little Ned is floating on something so I swim towards him since whenever I try to walk, my feet slip over the mud. The crying has stopped and I realize it far later than I should._

 _When I finally reach him, I turn my baby over, but find his lips are blue._

"No!" I scream in horror, flying up in bed.

My chest is tight, my throat closed like someone has their hands wrapped around it, but I throw myself from the bed. My knees hit the stone floor and pain shoots up my skin like an animal bite as I crawl towards the cradle.

"Ellie?" Robb's concerned voice hardly makes it through the haze of panic.

"Ned," I murmur as tears blur my vision.

Climbing back to my feet, I look over the edge of the crib and find little Ned sleeping peacefully. To my utter relief, his lips are pink. I caress his cheek and feel his warmth while his chest moves up and down steadily.

"Oh, my baby," I cry softly.

My knees buckle beneath me as the panic exhausts my body. Robb's arms wrap around me to guide us both to the floor gently. I rest my head against his chest while the aftermath of my nightmare keeps me trembling.

"It's okay," Robb whispers, smoothing my tangled hair. "It was just a bad dream."

I don't know how long he rocks me on the ground beside our sleeping son, but his gentle voice soothes my frayed nerves until I can breathe deeply again. Then, he continues rocking me to stop the shaking. The only reason my husband stops is because someone pounds on our chamber doors.

"Who in seven hells?" Robb grumbles.

…

Laid before us are the two Lannister squires Robb's uncle, Edmure, took hostage in battle. The new Lord Tully was so proud of this achievement, to imprison two young boys guilty of nothing but holding a sword for their knight. They were just my grandfather's nephew's sons. Another distant relative as significant to the family as Ser Alton, only he was an adult, these two were just children.

"Bring them in," Robb orders the Blackfish.

Lord Karstark and the other men responsible for this are brought in to face their king. Vengeance is their excuse, of course. I realize, I don't understand it. I do believe Lord Karstark and all the other fathers who have lost sons deserve the blood of those who have taken them, but these squires can't be held for a distant relative's crimes. They've probably never even seen my Uncle Jaime in person so why should the blood on his hands stain theirs as well.

I kneel beside one as Robb yells at Lord Karstark to look at the boys he murdered. Green eyes stare at the ceiling of Riverrun's castle, void of any life. I miss what is said as I gaze at the emptiness, but the Blackfish punches Lord Karstark and the grey-bearded man falls to his knees by me. When I look at him, I find a fire burning, a thirst that can neither be quenched nor understood.

"Leave him," my husband commands.

"Aye," Lord Karstark agrees, climbing back to his feet. "Leave me to the king. He wants to give me a scolding before he sets me free. That's how he deals with treason. Our King in the North. Or should I call him the King Who Lost the North?"

Robb remains calm, despite the fury setting his blue eyes ablaze. He orders Lord Karstark be taken to the dungeons while the rest hang. As the Blackfish leads the group out with the other guards, I find myself gazing down at the boy again, tracing his cheek as I did with little Ned not an hour earlier.

"This one, Martyn, looks like my brother," I murmur. "Baby Tommen."

My little brother cried when he said goodbye to me in Winterfell. My other brother killed my father-by-law. What a family.

"He has to die," Robb says from behind me. Climbing to my feet, I see he's moved to sit at the war table while Lord Edmure argues with him.

"The Karstarks are Northmen," Cat tells her son. "They won't forgive the killing of their lord."

"They will abandon you if you kill him, Robb," I add. My heart breaks for the children, but we can't save the dead.

Robb doesn't listen to any of us, though. The following morning, under a downpour, he beheads Lord Karstark for treason. Chilled by the rain, I find myself fearing the man's final words, just as I fear Harrenhal, the gods' justice, and the nightmare haunting me still.

 _"Kill me and be cursed."_

…

"Casterly Rock?" I question in surprise. "That's a bold move, my love."

"I can't force them to meet us in the field and I can't attack them where they're strongest, but I can attack them where they're not," he tells me.

"You don't have the men, Robb. With the Karstarks gone, where are you going to get more soldiers? Who can you convince to help without giving up all you've gained in the process?"

"There's only one person in the kingdom with that kind of army who hasn't already sided with the Lannisters," he says. "Walder Frey."

"Walder Frey?" I scoff. "A plan that depends on a man such as Walder Frey is a doomed plan."

"He helped us before," he reminds me.

"He let us pass over a bridge."

"He gave us men, too."

"For a price, Robb. Olyvar is still a squire and we don't have Arya to give to his son when they come of age. He helped us when it was just rescuing your father, now this war is about far more than he would ever care."

"Let me worry about Walder Frey, Ellie. Just tell me this, do you think it's possible for us to take Casterly Rock?" he asks. "You've been there, you know it."

"I was a young child," I mumble. "I hardly remember."

"Do you think it's possible?" he repeats as his eyes burn into mine.

"With enough men," I answer.

Glancing at the baby in my arms, I think of all the danger in the world from which I can't protect him. I think of all the awful things that could happen, but then I think of all the good if we could just go home. If the war was over, then we'd all be safe. I suddenly realize how much I want him to succeed in this wild plan.

"Do it, Robb. Take their home from them."

…

"Your uncle is worse than a girl," I laugh once the others have left. "Women are forced to marry whoever their fathers choose regardless of looks or age or anything other than status without being allowed to complain for even a second. Women bear it because it's their duty."

"Is that how you feel about our marriage?" he questions. I glance back at him and see something akin to nerves mixed with suspicion in his expression.

"Most are not as lucky as us," I assure, trying to mask my amusement. "We had time to fall in love before getting married. We wouldn't have even met before our wedding if I hadn't been sent to Winterfell so early."

 _I also wouldn't have fallen in love with Jon._

"Did you ever complain about it?" Robb's voice shakes me from the sadder direction my thoughts have gone.

"No, I complained about a great deal of things, but being promised to a boy in the North was not one of them," I say honestly, careful to hide the ache in my chest from my expression. "Anyway, you're not ancient and you're handsome enough."

"Handsome enough?" he laughs. "That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it," I tease. "I know you complained before I got to Winterfell by the way. Don't pretend like you were a boy completely accepting having a bride before you could even walk."

"I wasn't happy and Jon and Theon weren't helpful," he admits. "They told me you'd be a spoiled brat who had everything you wanted and would make me miserable for life."

"That's rather harsh," I grumble.

"Then, you climbed out of your wheelhouse," he continues as he moves towards where I sit on the bed. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear before kneeling in front of me. "And I completely forgot any worry I ever had."

"Hmm, that's very good," I murmur with a soft smile.

"It is," Robb agrees before pressing a kiss to my lips.

Little Ned waking up from his nap interrupts us and he goes to get our son. The baby giggles in delight as his father bounces him before carrying him over to me.

"We ought to have another one," he suggests.

"Already? This one's still nursing!"

"Don't you want a girl?" he asks with a grin. "A few girls and a few more boys?"

"How about we wait until this one sleeps through the night?" I suggest in amusement.

"It's up to you," he replies. "I'll be happy to be a father as many times as I can."

…

Little Ned is cranky today. We both got a taste for staying in a castle after living in a tent for so long and it was hard to leave. Despite standing in a different castle now, it doesn't ease either of our disappointments. Riverrun wasn't home, but it was far closer to it than the Crossing. House Tully is family, House Frey is a needed ally. Walder Frey is a creepy old man who ogled his queen holding her babe like he was looking at a common whore.

"Can we leave tomorrow at dawn?" I ask in the safety of our guest chambers.

"At dawn, probably not," Robb answers. "The men will be drunk tonight. Won't do much good to have everyone sick while we ride."

"I don't like it here and I don't like Lord Frey," I mutter. "Ned doesn't like him either. He's been difficult since we arrived."

"A good judge of character will make him a good king someday."

"I don't think I like that thought," I admit with a frown.

"What do you mean?" he questions curiously. "You don't want him to be a king?"

"Someday," I begin, standing, and moving towards the cradle where the baby lies. "You'll put a sword in his hand and teach him how to fight. He'll probably have to use those skills more than once. He'll fall, he'll bleed, and he'll get up and do it all again."

"Like a man should."

"Like a man should," I agree. "And I'll be at home, waiting and praying. He'll come back and I'll cry. He'll leave again and I'll cry. He came into this world and I have spent every second worried about him since. He can't even walk yet; how worse can it get?"

"I imagine, a lot," he tells me with an apologetic smile. "If he's a good man, a good king, his mother will never rest."

"Hardly fair," I grumble, but looking at my son, I know a lifetime of fear for his wellbeing is worth it.

Robb walks away to continue getting dressed while I gaze at little Ned a while longer. His auburn hair has started to curl like his father's and I have no doubt he'll be just as handsome. Every girl in the North will dream of marrying my little prince. I hope he gets to choose his wife, I hope he gets to choose everything he wants. I hope his crown doesn't lie heavy and imprison him in a life he doesn't want either.

He starts to fuss again so I take him in my arms to calm him.

"We'll go home soon, my love. All the North belongs to you and you'll never have to leave it again. You'll be free and safe and happy."

"That's right," Robb says, coming to wrap his arms around both of us. "And we'll all be together."

…

I haven't been to such a joyful feast since my own wedding. Tonight, wine flows endlessly and the laughter never stops. Leaving the baby in the nursery under the care of a wet nurse I've never met was difficult, but little Ned would not enjoy this celebration. I, however, am having lots of fun sipping the Dornish red and talking of nothing particularly important with my husband.

Despite his complaints, Lord Edmure seems incredibly happy eating blackberries from his new wife's hand.

"When we were up at the high table on our wedding night," I whisper to Robb, "I felt like we were the only two in existence."

"Before Ned's birth, that was the happiest night of my life," he says.

"Mine too," I murmur. Forgetting where we are, I lean forward and kiss him deeply.

Soon, Edmure and Roslin are carried off for the bedding ceremony and the celebration starts to slow. Something in the air changes or maybe I've had too much to drink, but my stomach suddenly twists nervously. One of Lord Frey's sons walks past and closes the doors of the great hall, then the tune changes to a familiar song. The Rains of Castamere begins to play which doesn't make any sense. The song is about a tragedy, why play it at such a happy event?

Confused, my gaze shifts to the table closest to where I sit and meets Cat's similar expression. Before I can say anything to Robb, Walder Frey's hand silences the music.

"Your Grace," he calls. Robb stands and approaches the high table while I remain in my seat. "I feel I've been remiss in my duties. I've given you meat and wine and music, but I haven't shown you the hospitality you deserve."

The legs of a chair scrape against the floor while a slap rings out through the hall.

"Robb!" Cat screams.

I fly to my feet as Roose Bolton runs behind my table and the musicians on the balcony above are replaced with men holding crossbows.

"Ned," I murmur in horror before running towards the doors just as an arrow is shot. I hear Robb shout in pain and my feet stumble, but I must get to our son.

I reach the doors, but two Freys grab me by each arm, and yank me away from the exit.

"Oh, no, Your Grace," one of them says. "You get to watch."

"Let go of me!" I scream, fighting against their hold.

The Stark men are being slaughtered as I'm dragged back to the front of the hall. Men I've gotten to know well being stabbed in the back and falling to the floor like sacks of flour. It's all chaos as men shout, arrows whizz past, and daggers slice into flesh. I continue struggling against my captors, but their hands dig into my skin so hard I'm sure the skin will turn purple. The horror hardly sinks in until I see Cat lying unmoving on the ground with arrows in her chest while Robb is struggling to his feet.

"Robb!" I yell, but he doesn't seem to hear me. I look up at the man responsible for this betrayal and find him more pleased than ever. "Why are you doing this? We've given you what you wanted!"

Walder Frey starts laugh as his sons grip me tighter. "You can't give me what I want, Your Grace."

Robb climbs to his feet finally and I see the two arrows in his chest, dangerously close to his heart.

"We'll leave! We'll leave and never come back! We won't ask anything of you! Just let us go!" I beg. "Please, Lord Frey!"

"Ellie," Robb mutters weakly, looking at me as if everything else has disappeared.

Roose Bolton comes in between us and grabs Robb's shoulder. "The Lannisters send their regards."

Then, he forces a knife through my husband's chest.

"No!" I scream. "No!"

I'm finally released and I rush forward, falling to my knees with him. I find the wound and try to stop the bleeding with my palm, but it gushes through my fingers. Sobs tear through my chest as I beg him to stay with me, staring into his blue eyes as the light fades from them.

"No, please," I cry. "Robb, no!"

With his last bit of strength, he tries to lift his hand, but it falls limp to the floor.

"Robb! Robb!" I grab his face and try to shake the life back into him, but his eyes have gone vacant. They no longer see me or anything else. "No, no, no!"

The tears fill my eyes as I cry over his body, but then a haze of red takes over my vision. I'm not sure what comes over me or how this shattering feeling of my heart causes a fit of blind rage, but I pull an arrow from my husband's chest and climb to my feet quickly. I spin around, knowing his killer stands behind me, and fully intending to stick it in his heart, but Lord Bolton grabs my wrist in an iron grip.

"You murderer!" I scream, pushing with all my might to send the bolt into his chest. "You traitor! I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!"

"You'll behave," he tells me on the contrary. "If you want your son to live."

A sob claws up my throat while his hold on me turns agonizing.

"You bastard," I growl through my cries.

"Choose wisely, _Your Grace_ ," Bolton warns.

There is no choice. The arrow falls from my hand and clatters on the floor.

"Congratulations, Princess. You're going home."

* * *

Well, hello everyone. I imagine you're all a little displeased with me, but the Red Wedding had to happen. It's the only way for Ellie and Jon to reunite.

It was difficult deciding a way for it to happen since Robb never broke any promise to Walder Frey, but honestly, I think he's terrible enough to betray them anyway just with the promise of whatever from Tywin. I hope that doesn't bother anyone too much.

So, I really, really want to know what everyone thinks. Please, please, please review and let me know! This was a hard chapter to write, but I hope it was still good.

Thank you so much for reading and special thanks to all who review, favorite, and follow.

Hope to hear from you guys,

-V :)


	17. Chapter 17

"Granddaughter, it's been a long time."

Night has kept my arrival from the Twins hidden. When the ship docked in the harbor, Lannister men were waiting to drag me to the Red Keep. I'm taken all the way to the top of the Tower of the Hand where it seems the Small Council has been waiting. Five familiar faces staring at me and my unwashed, blood-stained, tear-stained appearance. Three of those hold apologies I have no interest in as their gazes shift to my son nestled in my arms.

"Not long enough," I mutter.

"Welcome home," he continues unfazed.

"This is not my home," I spit.

Anger flashes over his eyes just long enough for me to see it, long enough to break away from the smug look on his face before he gathers himself once more. I wish I could feel a shred of accomplishment for having an effect on the great Tywin Lannister, but all I feel is the unbearable pain wrapped so tightly around me, I can't breathe. And it only worsens each time I blink as I'm forced to see Robb dying all over again.

"Eliana, the war is over. The wolf is dead."

"His name was Robb and he was my husband." The bite in my tone doesn't come through like I want because I choke on his name when a sob climbs up my throat.

"Yes, your husband. The King in the North," he says mockingly. "A traitor to the crown. A dead one."

To my complete frustration, I wince at his words.

"We are terribly sorry for your loss, Princess," Lord Varys tells me.

"Princess?" I murmur. I stopped being a princess the day I married Robb. I became Lady Stark, but it wouldn't do to call me that now, would it?

"Now, the union with the Stark boy was set up by your late father. You did your duty as a wife, that's understood. Since the king is your brother, he's decided to pardon you for your treachery," Tywin continues as if the bald man hadn't spoken.

"Will he? How generous of him," I intone.

"There are conditions, of course –"

"Of course," I agree, mocking _him_ this time.

My grandfather grinds his teeth together to keep himself from snapping at me while the others in the room tense.

"You will ask your brother for forgiveness in front of the court. You will bend the knee and pledge your loyalty to Joffrey and your house. You will declare not only for yourself, but for your son as well that your brother is the rightful and _only_ king. Your son will be raised here under my guidance until he comes of age and then he will inherit the North as his namesake demands," he explains, each command offering no room for argument. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," I tell him. "But no."

"Excuse me?" Tywin nearly growls in frustration.

"I will not do any of that," I say simply. "Now, as I'm sure you've had this all planned for a while, I assume my chambers are ready. If you need me, I don't care. I won't take any visitors."

With that, I exit the Tower of the Hand, not even sparing a glance for my mother.

…

The chambers I had as a child are far larger than any I had in Winterfell. For most, a place seems so much bigger in a childhood memory, but not for me. I remember every detail of my quarters and the Red Keep even though it's been seven years since the last time I saw it. As much as I didn't like this place, I would have thought the image in my mind had become distorted, but it's as clear as the image of my husband dead on the floor.

There's a cradle beside the bed which has me wondering how long this was planned once again. Who told them I had a baby? Alton Lannister after he saw me pregnant? Or perhaps Roose Bolton shared the information when he went crawling to my grandfather for power. Regardless, I never told them. I didn't send my mother a raven with the happy news that she was now a grandmother like the young girl in me wanted to because she was the enemy. She _is_ the enemy.

I place the baby in the crib and he barely stirs. Little Ned hasn't the slightest idea what's happened to our family. He wasn't particularly happy on the trip here and my crying as I held him didn't do much to ease his nerves, but he's still unaware of his father and his grandmother's deaths. He doesn't know he'll never hear Robb's voice or be tickled as they play again. He doesn't know there will never be another song sung by Cat as she rocks him in her arms. And someday, when he does know, he'll have no memory of it anyway.

As I stare at him sleeping, tears start to flood my eyes again. Ned looks so much like Robb it hurts. His dark auburn hair is growing, wisps of curls just beginning to stick out, and I know one day will come when I'll be looking at my husband's spitting image.

"Ellie," my mother's murmur from behind startles me. I don't realize how wet my cheeks are until I go to wipe the tears away with the back of my hand. "Ellie, I know you're hurting and I'm sorry. I know you cared for the Stark boy, but –"

I'm not sure what comes over me as another haze of red invades my sight. I know it's a feeling I've never experienced, far past anger and mixed with pain, but it takes over my body without permission. I whirl around suddenly and the same hand I was using to gently caress my son's hair connects with my mother's cheek. The sharp stinging in my palm matches the crack echoing around us and her gasp of shock only ignites more fury.

"His name was Robb and I didn't care for him, I _loved_ him. I love him still," I hiss.

"Ellie," she repeats in complete shock. Tears fill her eyes as well as she clutches the side of her face I slapped, but the weak hold I had over my emotions has finally broken.

"I loved him!" I nearly scream. My voice croaking as I continue through the sobs. "I loved him and you knew that and you let this happen anyway!"

"I had nothing –"

"Stop! I don't care if you didn't plan it, Mother. I care that you did nothing to protect him! He was my husband, your son-by-law, the father of your only grandchild and you let him –" My voice cracks as I choke on a sob and wake little Ned from his peaceful unawareness. "If you loved me, if you ever cared about me at all, you wouldn't have let this happen."

"I do love you," she argues. "You're my daughter and I wanted to protect you from this, but the Starks gave us no choice!"

"No, Mother," I say shakily. "They gave you a choice, you just didn't like it."

Little Ned's crying fills the large quarters while I glare at my mother through blurry eyes.

"You don't understand," she tries again, but I shake my head in disappointment. She can't even admit she was wrong for once.

"Get out," I mutter. "I don't want to see you, I don't want to look at your face or hear your voice. I hate you. Do you understand that? I _hate_ you."

She releases a shuddering breath, but I don't even feel something resembling remorse. I mean it with every fiber of my being. I hate her, I hate Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, and my grandfather, I hate everyone who played a part in the destruction of my family. And I won't pretend that I don't.

"I know you don't want to meet the conditions your grandfather has given you," Mother murmurs after a long silence, almost drowned by Ned's fussing. "But you'll do it to protect your son. We all do things we despise to protect our children."

…

"I, Eliana of the House Baratheon, pledge loyalty to you as the rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. I renounce all claims my late husband made for he was…" the word sticks in my throat while Joffrey's beady eyes glare down at me. "For he was a traitor as was his father."

"And your son?" Grandfather presses.

"And my son, Eddard Stark, will pledge his fealty to you and your heir when he comes-of-age. I vow I will not raise a traitor as the lord he bears his namesake from did."

Joffrey's expression transforms into a sneer as he leaves a great deal of silence in between my horrid words and whatever he plans to spew.

"Such treachery is considered unforgiveable to most," he finally begins. "You have seen how treason is treated."

My little brother stands from the Iron Throne, addressing the entire court behind me. The audience to his play.

"However, you are my beloved sister. You did your duty as a wife should which is why I will forgive such a crime and welcome you home," he finishes.

It's a good show, I'll give him that. Such pretty words from the king, but I know him. I know the glint in his green eyes is a threat. He'll do this in front of all the lords and ladies, but he'll punish me when they turn away. Before, I was tormented by my baby brother, the prince. He couldn't do anything other than run to our Mother so I'd get in trouble for something I didn't do. Now, however, he has endless power and my father, the only one to protect me as a girl, is dead.

I do my best to not fear the little snake standing above me, but as I leave the throne room and feel his eyes follow, a chill runs down my spine.

…

"What part of 'I will see no one' did you not understand?" I growl as my door opens after a knock.

Turning away from the window, I expect to see my handmaiden cowering by the entrance to my chambers, but I find a far more welcome face.

"Sansa," I murmur.

She's grown in every way since I last saw her. She must be quite a bit taller than me and she's clearly a young woman now. I see it in her eyes, though. The Tully blue was once filled with such excitement, such hopefulness. There was an innocent light inside her that always warmed me better than a fire, but it's been snuffed out by all the horrors she's endured.

Sansa moves across the room slowly, pausing at the cradle where little Ned rests. Her red-rimmed eyes widen for a moment, but then the tears fill them. I mourn for my losses, cry an endless amount. I loved Ned and Cat as my own parents, Bran and Rickon as my own brothers, but they weren't. They were hers. Robb was my husband, his death brings me more pain than I ever hope she feels, but that doesn't lessen what she's suffering from. Worse, I want to be alone while she's forced to be.

"You named him after my father?" she asks softly, her voice trembling.

"Yes," I whisper.

"They made you watch?" she questions, tearing her gaze from my son. I nod as I move from my seat towards her. "They made me watch when my father –"

A sob escapes, so harsh that her knees weaken beneath her weight, and she falls into my embrace. I can't take any of her grief away, I can't soothe her as Cat would have, but at least she doesn't have to grieve alone anymore.

…

The days pass exhaustingly slow. I can't sleep without being plagued by nightmares, I can hardly stomach anything. I feel myself wasting away the longer I'm forced to live knowing Robb is dead. The only way for me to find strength is when I look at my son which is why I spend as much time as possible holding him or watching him. Little Ned has no idea he's the only reason his mother continues to breathe. Without him, I'd throw myself out of the window I spent so much time staring out as a child.

Rarely do I leave my chambers, but when the king himself requests my presence, he sends a great deal of guards to ensure I don't ignore him.

"Sister!" Joffrey chirps in excitement as I walk the long path from the doors to the Iron Throne. "I have a gift for you!"

I come to a stop in front of the steps leading to the hideous chair giving my brother power. Laying at my feet is something wrapped in a grey cloak, but I meet Joffrey's gleeful gaze.

"Go on, then," he orders. "Open it. I think you'll quite like it and so will your little wolf pup."

Ser Meryn Trant shifts forward when I don't immediately do as he says. I eye him for a moment before scoffing.

"What's your guard dog going to do?" I question skeptically. "Hit me?"

"If I tell him to," Joffrey says lowly. The threat is clear in his eyes and in Ser Meryn's tightened fist. "Open it."

Sinking to my knees, I throw the cloak open to see what he's given me. I'm met with familiar grey fur that stops my breathing. My fingers run over the wolf skin as tears begin to blur my vision.

"I had Walder Frey send it," he tells me. "I'm still deciding what I want to do with it. Until then, I thought you'd enjoy it. Do you like it, Ellie?"

"You think you're clever," I mutter, turning a glare on him as I stand. Whatever sense I've ever had is obliterated as I can no longer contain the hatred inside me. "You think you're a man who's defeated all his enemies, but you're not. You're a cruel, little boy with a crown and guards to do your bidding. The only things you've defeated are the butterflies you pick the wings off, Joffrey."

"Excuse me?" my brother growls and Ser Meryn wraps his hand around the hilt of his sword.

"You heard me," I spit. "My husband may be dead, but he faced his enemies. He conquered his enemies. He didn't hide behind his mother's skirts or his grandfather's army. You're just the same horrible, little boy cowering behind a title you don't deserve."

"You're talking to your king," the guard reminds me in a threatening tone.

"Oh, I know, Ser Meryn."

"You'll apologize to me," Joffrey hisses. "You'll get on your knees right now and beg for forgiveness."

"I will not," I argue without hesitation.

"You'll regret this, Ellie," he warns. "All you are is a traitor's whore and you'll pay just like he did."

"I've never been afraid of you, Joffrey, and I'm not afraid now."

…

"Why is it that everyone sends guards to escort me around?" I question sardonically as I return to the Tower of the Hand where my grandfather awaits.

"Because you ignore every request made," he answers simply. "I wouldn't need to send men if you would show up as you're asked."

"You're a smart man, Grandfather. I would think you know when to take a hint. I have no interest in speaking with you or any other bloody person who _requests_ my presence," I quip.

"I heard what you said to your brother the other day," Tywin gets right to the point. "It was inappropriate and stupid."

"And?"

"And you're smarter than that," he sighs. "Joffrey is the king and you'd be wise to not provoke him. Brother or not."

"He provoked me," I growl. "Presenting my husband's wolf pelt like a name-day present."

"Be grateful it wasn't your husband's head," he returns. "That's what he wanted to do."

I never saw what they did with Robb's head after they sewed Greywind's onto his shoulders, but the image of his vacant blue eyes staring up at me while my brother laughs with joy infuriates and horrifies me. I immediately lose any semblance of patience for my grandfather or anyone else.

"Are you finished? You've scolded me, now can I leave?"

"You will not antagonize your brother again," he tells me. "Do you understand?"

"You have no control over me. You are not my father and I am not a child. You can reprimand me as many times as you like, but I will still do what I want," I say calmly. "Do _you_ understand?"

"Careful, Eliana. You do not have the power you think you have."

"Neither do you."

…

Walking back to my chambers, no one bothers or speaks to me. They just bow their heads as I pass, whether in respect or pity, I'm not sure. Regardless, I'm glad I don't have to talk to anyone. The only person in this entire city I don't despise aside from my son is Sansa which is why they're the only ones I spend my time with.

Reaching my chambers, I find the door ajar which is strange. I ordered my handmaiden to bolt the door and take care of Ned until I returned. I push it all the way open to find the large quarters completely empty.

"Jaylah?" I call out for the girl I left in here.

I glance around, expecting to see the younger girl cradling my son or cleaning my chambers, but it's completely empty. Worry sets in immediately as I have no justification for anyone taking my son out of this room. My heart starts to pound nervously in my chest as a cold sensation fills me. As I move further inside, rapidly trying to find an answer to my unspoken question, I take notice of something that wasn't here when I left to see my grandfather.

Laying on the ground, crumpled beside the cradle, is Greywind's pelt.

All the air leaves my lungs in a vicious whoosh as I run forward.

"Ned?"

His name falls brokenly from my tongue as I'm met with the most horrifying sight possible.

My son lies unmoving in his bed with blue lips like in my nightmares.

He's already cold when I take him in my arms. I don't even hear my glass-shattering screams as I clutch my baby and sob. Men come running as my tears fall onto his pale face and I try to shake him awake. I beg every god I've ever heard of to give him back while I try to breathe life into him once more, but it doesn't work.

Little Ned's eyes refuse to open, his lungs refuse air, and his heart won't even give a murmur.

My baby is gone.

* * *

So...hello again.

Not going to lie, this has been done for a while, but I was afraid to publish it...

I had a hard time writing this as well because I obviously didn't enjoy killing off a baby, it's just wrong. However, the original way my story was supposed to go changed so much that I couldn't figure out a way for little Ned to stay and for Eliana to do the things I have planned. It just wouldn't make sense because obviously she wouldn't do anything crazy because it would endanger her son and she's about to do some real crazy things.

So to everyone who kept begging for little Ned to stay alive, I am so, so sorry.

I would really love to hear some feedback, though. Please don't hate me too much! If it helps, there's only one more chapter until Jon and Ellie are reunited!

Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following! I hope you guys aren't too mad at me and give up on this story!

Until next time,

-V :)


	18. Chapter 18

He was everything.

He held the entire world in his little palm. He stole my heart when I realized he was growing inside of me and he took it with him when he was forced out of this horrible life.

I could handle all the pain that came with losing every member of my family, even Robb, so long as I had little Ned. He was the single good thing in this awful existence. He didn't know all the bad surrounding us, he didn't know what was haunting us, all he knew was that I was his mother. He knew when he needed me, I would be there. If he was hungry, I would feed him. If he needed to be changed, I would do it. If all he wanted was to be held and given all the attention possible, he knew I was there to give it.

All he knew was that he could trust me to take care of him always, but I failed him.

I couldn't protect him from anything.

"Eliana," my grandfather's voice interrupts the silence surrounding little Ned and me. "I've been told you're not allowing the Silent Sisters to finish the preparations for the funeral."

"He needs to be put in the crypt soon, my sweet," Mother adds. It's not surprising they came together.

"He doesn't belong here," I mutter.

"Of course he does," she argues. "He belongs close to you."

"I don't belong here either," I say. "He's a Stark and he belongs in Winterfell like all the other Starks."

"Winterfell is a ruin," Tywin tells me.

"Theon didn't burn down the crypts," I hiss. Tears fill my eyes once more as I think about the statues that are carved for a Stark's final resting place. Not even one has been made for a baby.

"It's not possible, Eliana."

"Father, she's not asking for much. We can spare men to escort your great grandson's body to Winterfell," Mother defends me for once.

I don't take my eyes from little Ned's lifeless face, but I imagine they're having a silent argument. It finally ends with my grandfather sighing and agreeing to send men only after the wedding. Tywin probably expects gratitude, but he'll get none from me and he leaves soon after realizing that fact. With him gone, Mother comes to stand on the other side of the altar where my son lies.

"He was beautiful," she murmurs.

I grind my teeth in irritation. I don't want her or anyone else here right now. I just want to be with my son for as long as I can.

"How are you doing, my love?"

"How do you think I'm doing, Mother?" I return sharply. Even my quiet voice echoes around the stone walls of the empty hall.

"I can't imagine," she admits, unfazed by my anger. "There is nothing worse than a baby dying."

"I think a baby being murdered is a lot worse," I say as the tears trickle past my chin.

"Ellie, I know this is hard, but claims like that –"

"It's not a claim," I growl. My blue eyes fly up to meet her green ones, finding her face contorted in my blurred vision. "Joffrey murdered my son. He smothered my baby boy. Do not dare to pretend that your son isn't responsible for this."

"Accusing the king of murder is treason, Ellie. Please be careful," she begs.

"What is he going to do?" I demand. "I have nothing left for anyone to take but my life and I will gladly give it to escape this hell."

"Don't say that," Mother pleads sadly.

"Look at him!" I croak. "Look at my baby! He was everything and every breath I take in a world where he's not breathing is more pain than anyone should ever have to bear."

I look back down at Ned and my shaky fingers brush through his dull curls. Another sob escapes as I stare at his sweet, pale face. My heart physically hurts like I took a dagger to it the way my husband did. Only, I'd rather that pain than this. I'd rather burn alive and relive the death of everyone else I've ever loved than accepting that my son is gone.

"My baby," I cry, forgetting my mother's watchful eyes. "My baby boy."

I spend as long as possible crying over Ned's body. Even when they come to take him, insisting the rot has already set in, I have to be dragged from the altar because I know I'll never see him again.

And when he's finally, truly gone, the pain brings me to my knees and I curl up on the floor to weep until there are no tears left.

…

A week passes where all I do is lie on the floor and cry. I don't eat, I don't sleep, and I fight every breath my body demands I take. When I finally do manage to pull myself to my knees, it's only to crawl towards the small table in my chambers to add drinking to the mix. More sleepless nights pass when I drink until I vomit before Sansa arrives to pull me to my feet. Unfortunately for my sister-by-law or aunt by marriage, everything about her is a bitter reminder of what I once had so I take it out on her until she leaves.

I move to my vanity where I'm met with my reflection for the first time since his death. My hair is ratted mess, nothing like the auburn curls my son had. My skin is nearly as pale as his had been when I found him, but it doesn't matter how you feel, the living will always carry some warmth. It's my eyes, however, that blur my vision once more with tears. Little Ned's were as blue as mine, the true Baratheon color, and they were so wide. Even as an infant, they shined with curiosity and wonder just as mine had done when I was younger.

Looking into his eyes brought me such joy and I could see the unconditional love we shared reflecting into my own. He was so full of life because he held mine with his, but it vanished for both of us when I found him in his cradle. The love, life, and light were gone completely, vacant orbs of blue took their place after he was murdered. Never have I hated the color blue so much when I realized how dull it could become and I stare into my own eyes now to find they're dull as well, but they aren't lifeless.

Another part the living will always carry whether they feel like it or not. When I'm forced into this realization, that's when I begin to feel a change inside of me. My heart throbs painfully in my chest, each beat a horrible reminder of my survival and anger starts to swell around the agony. The heat of fury starts to redden my skin as my lungs demand air more quickly and my tears burn as they streak my cheeks. My fists clench tightly while the blue stares back at me and my teeth grind together so hard, I think they'll break.

Disgusted, I grab the closest object within my reach and fling it at the mirror. My hairbrush hits the center and shards of glass come flying towards me. I don't even feel the piece that cuts my cheek, but I see the blood begin to seep from the small wound in my shattered reflection. Reaching up, my fingers return sticky and red, reminding me of being drenched in Robb's blood as he struggled through his final breath.

It all comes back to blood.

My father wouldn't have been king if he didn't spill the blood of the Targaryen prince. Ned Stark wouldn't have been arrested if my brother truly shared the same blood as my father. Robb wouldn't have marched to war if Joffrey didn't spill the blood of his father when he beheaded him. I wouldn't have returned to King's Landing with my son if my husband hadn't bled to death on the floor after a betrayal.

And Little Ned's blood wouldn't have stopped flowing through his veins as a result if all those things had been different.

To make it worse, it all comes back to _my_ blood.

If it wasn't for my mother or my brother, I'd still have my family.

If it wasn't for Joffrey, I'd still have my son.

I rub my fingers together, watching the blood smear over my skin. Inside, a fury I never thought anyone was capable of feeling, let alone myself, boils hotter than a fire.

…

A childhood spent exploring every inch of the Red Keep finally becomes useful. I'm able to slip through hidden passages and hide in the shadows as I work out the fine details of my plan. I do everything as quickly as possible because the only thing powering me is the fire burning in my veins and I know all fires die out eventually.

The night comes, however, and my anger is all-consuming. I let it guide me through the hallways until I finally reach his chambers. A single Kingsguard stand outside the large doors and Ser Osmund looks far too drowsy to be any use to his king. I imagine there are several ways to get inside without touching the knight, but he very well could have been one of the guards standing outside my bedroom while my brother suffocated my son. The suspicion is enough for me to raise the bow in my hand and draw an arrow from the shadows.

I release the string without a second thought and watch the arrow fly through the air until it connects with Ser Osmund's neck – the only part of his body exposed in his armor. Blood spurts from the wound and he chokes on his gasp of surprise. I stay hidden behind the flickering flames of a torch and watch through wide eyes as the knight tries to save himself and call for help. His armor clatters on the stone floor as he falls to his knees. Desperately, he tries remove the arrow or stop the flow of blood, but it's useless.

He collapses on his side, writhing for only a few moments more before he goes still and his eyes lose all light as Robb and Ned's had.

I emerge from the shadows, stopping to stand above the dead man's body. My eyes wander over the top of his white cloak which is now stained crimson and settle on the arrow jutting out of his throat. I've seen dead men in my life, especially in the most recent years, but I always felt something. The bodies they dragged back from war, the Lannister boys killed because of their name, and even men executed for treason all elicited sorrow and I was never responsible for their deaths.

Now, however, I stare down at the knight I've just killed, the first life I've ever taken with my own hands, but I feel nothing. Not sorrow, regret, or guilt of any kind. It's as if he was never a human being, but simply an obstacle in my path for justice. Ser Osmund is so insignificant that I'm able to step over him without even a moment of thought.

The king's door is not bolted from the inside so I push it open and step through in silence before locking it myself. Joffrey faces the opposite direction as he's begun to remove his clothes from the day. He halts his movements as his grating voice rings throughout the room.

"I told you I won't be disturbed," he growls.

I don't respond as I pull another arrow from the quiver slung over my shoulder and nock it on the bow as I wait for him to turn and face me.

I won't put an arrow in his back as his true father put a sword in the Mad King's. I'll look at him as he dies and taste what little justice there is left in this world.

"Did you hear me, you idiot?" Joffrey spits before spinning around.

"I did," I answer, raising the bow in response to his surprised expression.

"How did you get in here?" My little brother first demands before his face contorts cruelly and he has the audacity to scoff. "What are you going to do, Ellie? Shoot me?"

In response, I shift my stance and release the arrow so it pierces his thigh. He cries out in pain as he falls to his knees, grabbing at the shaft while his face turns red.

"Guard!" Joffrey screams as I stalk towards him like an animal approaching its prey.

"I killed your guard," I tell him. "Call for help all you like, but you'll be dead before anyone gets here."

"Guards!" He shouts again as tears fill his eyes like the baby he is.

"Crying already?" I scoff this time. "I suppose not everything changes."

"I'll have your head for this!" Joffrey tries to growl, but it comes out a high-pitched squeak from the pain. "You stupid whore!"

"I'm not a whore," I say calmly as I pull another arrow from the quiver.

He glances around his chambers until his eyes land on the crossbow at a table just a few steps from where he kneels.

"Go ahead," I offer. "See whose arrow is faster."

Joffrey returns his beady eyes to glare up at me. A real man would be able to stand and find a weapon, but the king just cries on the floor like a craven.

"You're nothing," he spits. It's almost funny that he believes he's in a position to insult me. "Just a broodmare sold off to breed with wolves. And you couldn't even do that right."

From the short distance, I put another arrow in his opposite thigh. His wails of pain remind me of the dying men left on the field after a battle my husband won.

"I'm not nothing, Joffrey. I am the only trueborn child of King Robert Baratheon. I am the only princess, the Lady of Winterfell, the last Queen in the North, but you…" I move until I'm right in front of him and he's forced to crane his neck to look at me. "You're just a bastard with a crown and a monster with power you don't deserve."

"I am the king!" he screeches.

"You are a murderer!" The calm edge of my voice falls away suddenly. "You killed my son!"

"I'll kill every Stark I can," he hisses.

My arrowless hand connects with his cheek sharply, forcing his entire head to whip sideways.

"He was a baby!" I scream. "Why did you kill him?"

Joffrey doesn't answer quick enough so my hand moves on its own accord. My palm stings from leaving a red print on his cheek, but I slap him one more time anyway.

"Why did you kill my baby?" Hysteria threatens to take over as tears fill my eyes and my voice rises several octaves. Despite the pain and position he's in, Joffrey still appears smug.

My heart pounds in fury as I back up several steps and pull out the fourth arrow. I nock and draw just as I learned as a child from Ser Rodrik before aiming at Joffrey's chest. The string creaks from the tension while I hold my stance. My brother realizes where this final arrow will go and the smugness vanishes. Between the blood seeping from his legs and the hot tears still rolling down his cheeks, fear finally consumes his expression.

"Not so tough now, are you, little brother?" I mutter as my heart races in contrast.

All I have to do is release the string and little Ned's killer will finally face justice.

"Ellie, please," Joffrey croaks suddenly. "Please don't kill me."

"You killed my son," I growl. "You ripped my entire life from me."

"Please," he begs for mercy like a coward. "Please, Ellie."

For a split second, I find myself staring at a different person. Joffrey is just a little boy, maybe five which would make me six, and his green eyes are foggy from the tears. He was a horrible brat when we were children and he spent his time tormenting me or tattling to Mother, but he was still my brother. Though it's difficult to find any singular happy times, I know they existed. Despite my hatred long before he murdered Ned, I know I loved Joffrey.

My elbow slackens, the tension of the bow falling away as I lower the entire weapon.

That's what you do, you love your siblings. You take care and protect each other. When the world is cruel and takes everything from you, you lean on your siblings in order to survive.

I move back towards Joffrey as he continues to plead for his life.

But my brother is the cruel part of the world who took everything from me.

The split-second ends as Joffrey returns to his true self in my vision and little Ned appears behind my eye lids every time I blink just in case I hesitate anymore.

"Behold, the great King Joffrey," I murmur. The bow clatters to the floor, but the arrow stays in my hand.

Joffrey looks up at me with a shred of relief, but it's false hope.

My fist tightens around the shaft of the arrow until my knuckles turn white and I don't even take breath as I move my arm swiftly and shove the sharp end through the side of his neck.

He gags, choking as the blood fills his throat and blocks his airway. Tear-filled eyes stare into mine as he tries to fight me. His hands claw at mine as I keep hold of the arrow so it can't be removed.

"I want you to look at me," I hiss. "I want to be the last image you have before you go to the seventh hell."

With that clear, I rip the arrow from his throat. Blood spurts out as it did with the guard, but it sprays my face and the front of my black dress. I gasp for air, realizing I haven't been breathing. Joffrey collapses to the side, clutching the hole the arrow left, trying to move away as his heart beat slows from the missing blood. I watch him crawl just a few feet before his muscles give out and he hits the floor hard. Almost immediately, a pool of blood fills the space where he lays.

The air shudders through my lungs as I drop the arrow. When I'm certain he's gone, I approach slowly to see that his green eyes have gone vacant. You can't even tell he was evil because there's nothing left just as there had been with my husband and son.

The fury that pushed me to do this seems to have died with him because I feel nothing.

I stare at the face of my son's murderer and my baby brother who I've just kill, but I'm void of any feeling.

…

I slip into the dark chambers, careful not to make any noise. My eyes scan the room quickly, pausing on the lounge where my Uncle Tyrion is sprawled out and fast asleep. On the table beside him, a pitcher and empty goblet tell me he's probably too drunk to be disturbed so I continue my path to the bed. There, Sansa lays, appearing so gentle and unharmed in her sleep. I shake her awake, bringing her out of whatever fantasy world she's visiting, and she nearly screams in fear. My hand slams over her mouth as I glare at her in the dark.

"Hush," I murmur, pointing towards her husband.

"What are you doing in here?" she whispers when I move my palm.

"We're leaving," I say. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" she questions in confusion.

"Somewhere safer than here. Get dressed," I command softly. "Be quick about it and don't wake Tyrion."

Once Sansa has thrown on a dress and pulls the hood up of her cloak to mimic mine, I pull her out of her shared bedroom and drag her through the shadowed pathways of the Red Keep. I take hidden passages she didn't know existed, moving almost too fast for my sister-by-law for keep up with. We move in silence and meet no roadblocks in any of the tunnels. There's a grate closing off the route to keep peasants from entering the castle underground, but there's an opening in the corner that spreads just enough for two thin women to slip through.

It brings us as close to the docks as possible, but before I continue dragging Sansa, she demands answers.

"What's going on, Ellie? Where are we going?"

"There's a ship leaving for the North and we're getting on it," I answer. "We have to hurry."

"Why would we go to the North?" she presses while I sigh in annoyance. I shift to look at her fully and her eyes widen in shock. "Is that blood?"

Quickly, I wipe my face with a rough swipe before grabbing her hand again. All I had done was pull out a handkerchief and clean my face of Joffrey's blood while I was rushing towards Sansa's chambers.

"Ellie, just tell me what's going on!" Sansa begs as we keep moving.

I halt once more and look her dead in the eyes. "I'm taking you to your brother. It'll be safer with him. You can stay here if you really want to, but I'm not."

I spare a moment for her to make up her mind, but she obviously doesn't need it. Why would she turn down an opportunity to finally escape this hell?

We continue all the way to the harbor without any more interruptions. It isn't until we've boarded the ship, locked ourselves in the cabin I've already paid for with the only precious belonging I have safely hidden inside, and set sail that we finally speak again.

"How can we go to the Wall? Women aren't welcome there," Sansa says.

"Jeor Mormont is the Lord Commander and House Mormont is incredibly loyal to House Stark. He'll let you stay without question," I assure.

"He'll let _me_ stay?" She catches on quickly. "What about you?"

The sound of bells tolling in the distance saves me from explaining my entire plan to her so soon.

"Is that for us?" she questions in fear.

"No," I mutter. "That's for the king."

"Joffrey? What do you mean?"

"I mean that they found him," I answer, meeting her panicked eyes. "He's dead."

"You killed him?" she whispers in shock, piecing together the simple puzzle.

"I did."

The fire I felt earlier has completely burned out and all I can feel now is the cold settling into my bones.

* * *

Hello everyone!

First off, thank you so much for all the feedback last chapter! I know a lot of it was how upset you were from little Ned dying, but I still really appreciate hearing from you! I am very sorry again for lulling you into a false sense of security, but I think everyone sees that Ellie is going to (and has already after this chapter) begun to snap.

I also really appreciate constructive criticism so please feel free to let me know when you find something that just doesn't work. I realize that so far, despite how many chapters we have, everything has still happened the same way. I did take that into consideration and made some big changes to the plot even with my plan to already stray from the canon finally. So, please continue to let me know what I should fix because it's always welcomed!

For this chapter, I really hope you enjoyed it! Losing baby Ned was rough, but I'm excited to explore Ellie's character in the aftermath of it. Especially now that she's killed two people. What do you guys think?

Please, please, please review! The amount of feedback from last chapter was so great and it really does motivate me to get the next chapter out sooner!

Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following!

See you next time,

-V :)

P.S. The reunion we've all been waiting for will be in the next chapter... ;)


	19. Chapter 19

"Ellie," Sansa murmurs, breaking the silence we've been in since our journey began.

I trace the steel of the blade with my finger, twisting the dagger in my hands, and losing myself in the repetition. "Hmm?"

"Is this what I think it is?" The question goes over my head as I struggle to concentrate on anything other than the weapon. " _Ellie_!"

Sansa's voice takes an unfamiliar edge so I glance up to find her concerned, blue eyes burning holes into my cold skin.

"What?" I mutter.

"This," she points to the chest. "Is this…is this Ned?"

Silence consumes the cabin as I stare at where she's pointing. Is that Ned? No, that's just a case with a body. Ned was a whole world and a life too pure for this one. He was blue eyes and burgundy curls. Smiles and giggles. A heartbeat and small breaths. Love wrapped in a perfect package with a single flaw – that he could be taken away.

"Oh, gods, Ellie!" Sansa is rushing towards me suddenly, kneeling by my featherbed before prying the knife from my fingers. "You're bleeding."

Looking down, I see the slice in my palm from squeezing the blade, but I never felt the pain. My sister-by-law is quick to wrap the cut while I remain motionless.

"He doesn't belong in King's Landing," I whisper. Sansa's hands still on mine as she looks up to meet my tired gaze. "I have to take him home."

"Home? You're taking him to Winterfell? I thought we were going to the Wall."

" _You're_ going to the Wall, Jon will take care of you," I say. "I have to take care of him."

"And what happens once you've taken him to Winterfell? There's nothing there, Theon made sure of that."

"That's all that is left to do," I murmur.

Sansa pulls away from me, shock and horror evident on her expression as she processes what I've said. She looks truly hurt by my vague explanation, but guilt can't break through the cold.

"You can't just give up," she argues.

"My son is in a box, Sansa. I don't think I'm giving up."

"Ellie, please. I know you've lost so much, but I need you. You're all I have, I can't lose you too," she pleads.

"You can't lose someone who's already gone."

…

I make a horrible mistake as I lay awake on my featherbed while Sansa sleeps beside me.

I imagine a different world, a better one, where people aren't horrible. It's a beautiful place where my son grows up to be a good man just like his father. I get to watch as he grows taller and those auburn curls get longer. He learns how to swing his sword, but he never has to use it. His smile never falters, his laughter is a song serenading all the people who love him, and he's happier than anyone in existence.

Robb and I are there to enjoy every single day with him. We never have to worry because our son is never in any danger. The only wish we have to make this perfect life even better is for time to slow down so we can further enjoy the gift the gods gave us.

But that world could never exist because the gods ripped that gift from my grasp.

Frustrated, I crawl from my cot and towards the chest. My cold fingers run over the smooth wood and the lock which keeps its contents hidden. It's small, small enough for me to carry, but it's just another reminder that my son's life was far too short.

I rest my forehead against the wood as fresh tears fall to the chest. I wrap my arms around its expanse while I think about the last time I held my son.

All I want now is to get to Winterfell and bury my son in the crypts where he belongs. I'll get Sansa to the only place I can think of that is remotely safe, I will lay baby Ned to rest, and then everything can be over.

There's nothing left to fight for and I won't live with this misery a moment longer than necessary.

…

When the ship docks in White Harbor, Sansa and I go to the nearest inn where I rent a room for us to bathe in and eat without being leered at by potentially dangerous men. The stares don't bother me, but I know they leave my sister-by-law even more uneasy. She's not as confident in my ability to protect us as I am, though my nonchalance may be reckless. A single dagger can't stop a ship full of rapists, but we haven't faced anything more than jeers and looks so far.

Once Sansa has finished washing, she sits at the tiny table to eat the beef stew the innkeeper's daughter brought us while I take my turn. The water is warm enough, but bumps still break out over my skin from the cool air. I only intend to quickly scrub the journey away, but I find myself sinking beneath the surface and remaining underwater until my lungs start screaming. Sansa is watching in silent worry as I gasp for breath and wipe the water from my eyes.

I begin to use the coarse sponge, pressing hard enough to leave red streaks over my pale skin, and doing my best to ignore Sansa's continued stare.

"Do you…" her soft voice quakes in the quiet room. "Do you remember the last thing you said to them? To Mother or Robb?"

My hand stills and I meet her sad gaze in the candlelight.

"I'm sorry," Sansa murmurs, diverting her eyes. "I just…it's been so long, I can barely remember saying goodbye."

I swallow the lump that forms in my throat as I think about that fateful night. I can still see it, hear the bolts shooting from the crossbow, feel the blood on my hands.

"Our wedding," I say in a hoarse voice. "We talked about our wedding, how we felt that night sitting at the high table."

"I was such a fool," she whispers tearfully. "All I wanted was to marry Joffrey, I didn't care about anyone but myself, and now they're all gone."

"You were a child," I tell her. "Innocent and naïve like all children. It doesn't mean you deserve any of the horrors you've experienced."

Sansa shakes her head in argument. "I begged Joffrey for mercy. He promised if Father said he was the rightful king –"

"Joffrey was a monster," I say sharply before forcing a softer tone. "There are many things that could have been done to change fate, but you growing up before your time is not one of them."

"You don't know that," she sighs. "I think I could have changed a lot of things if I hadn't been such a stupid, little girl."

I splash the now tepid water on my face instead of answering. Maybe she's right, but it doesn't matter. When all is said and done, this entire war goes back to my mother. If she hadn't been impregnated by her brother, there would be no bastards sitting on the Iron Throne. That's all this ever boiled down to in the end. The Starks, my husband, my baby boy would all be alive if my father's son had taken the crown.

Not for the first time since leaving King's Landing, I face the idea that I should have killed my mother too.

She destroyed my entire life. The last thing she said to me before leaving Winterfell, back when I thought she truly loved me, was 'don't let anyone take away your happiness,' but _she_ did. My mother stole it all like plucking petals from a flower, leaving me nothing but a wilted stem.

And all for what? So she could love someone else?

She had a duty whether she liked it or not. She was married to my father. All she had to do was mother his children and then she was free to do anything else as queen. The one thing that was forbidden is the first rule she broke and she turned all of Westeros upside down because of it. Cersei is a selfish monster just like her bastard son. I just don't understand why we are all paying for her sins.

 _Don't let anyone take away your happiness._

What a sick joke.

…

Surprisingly, we meet no threats on the second ship. Well, nothing _I_ consider a threat. The leering continues and one soon-to-be Night's Watchman got a little handsy with me, but a swift elbow to the gut shut that down very quickly. Sansa isn't as unfazed by the men as I am, though. I'm not sure if I am unconcerned because I spent so much time surrounded by an army or if I just don't care anymore, but my good-sister remains locked in our cabin while I watch the water from the deck.

The air is so cold, my entire body has gone numb. Someone could stab me and I'm certain I wouldn't feel it. I remember the beginning of my time in Winterfell when I felt like I would freeze to death, but I was too stubborn to admit it to anyone. The North was my new home and ten-year-old me was determined to endure every challenge since I would someday be the Lady of Winterfell.

However, the unforgiving weather made that more than a little difficult. I did my best to hide how my teeth were always chattering and how I could never feel my fingers, but I learned quickly that everyone could tell. Eventually, Cat helped me add to all my dresses to make them warmer and got me a better cloak. Months later, Lord Stark admitted how impressed he was with how long I was able to pretend that I wasn't freezing.

Despite how miserable I had been, I do have one fond memory of being in such a state.

Unsurprisingly, it was Jon who helped me before anyone else. One day, I was watching Ser Rodrik train the boys in sparring. Robb and Theon went up against each other first while I sat off to the side, huddled beneath my thin, southern cloak. Before I realized he was there, Jon had his thicker cloak draped over my shoulders. I can still remember how pink his cheeks got when he stumbled over his words to explain his kind deed and I just smiled in gratitude.

It's funny, I fell in love with the cold just as I wanted to, but there were so many times over my years in Winterfell when I would pretend to shiver just so Jon Snow would warm me.

I shove all my memories of Jon to the back of my mind to prevent anymore pain from ruining my enjoyable numbness. I'm relieved when the Wall comes into view, but I'm also disillusioned. I always wondered what it was like, and true, there's no description that could do it justice, but I have lost all sense of wonder. Rather than looking up at something forged by magic to protect everyone, it's just ice to me.

Really tall ice.

When the ship finally docks, I breeze past the men working with Sansa in tow and approach the Night's Watch castle. Men clad all in black look at us as if they've never seen women before and my good-sister grips my hand even tighter in fear. She seems to remember that most of them are criminals while I remain unperturbed. This may be the worst time for me to be unafraid, but I can't help it. I am too empty to care.

A wiry man with a mean face and a thin beard steps in front of our path suddenly, glaring down at me like I'm an enemy. I imagine there was a time when I would have found him quite intimidating, especially as I'm forced to stare up at his crooked nose and scarred skin. Sansa is in that state as she hides behind my shorter form, but I meet his gaze head on without hesitating.

"Who are you?" he demands gruffly.

"Eliana," I answer simply. "Who are you?"

"Cotter Pyke. Commander of Eastwatch." He spits each word like they taste foul. "Women ain't welcome here."

"We don't intend on staying," I tell him. "We need to get to Castle Black."

"Women ain't welcome there either."

I sigh in exhaustion, "I need two horses. I'll buy them, give you a good price."

"We don't sell horses, girl. Now, get on!"

"Eh, Commander, we ought to keep her around," a man with a greasy, brown beard suggests. The way his beady eyes sweep over my cloak-covered body twists my empty stomach in disgust.

"This one, too," a black-haired man says as he looks at Sansa similarly. "I've always had a thing for girls with pretty red hair."

" _Ellie_ ," Sansa whispers nervously in my ear as she moves impossibly closer to me.

"Aye, they look like proper ladies," someone else agrees.

"Bet they're maids. I like maids."

Finally, my patience runs thin.

"I am not a maid nor am I a lady," I snap. "I am a princess. Now, you can either give me the horses or you can answer to my brother, the _king_."

It's a weak bluff, but I easily glare daggers at the men circling Sansa and me.

"You're lying," the brown-bearded one spits.

"Your brother's awful far anyway," another man adds.

Cotter Pyke ignores his men, stepping so close to me that I can smell the ripe stench of a long-unwashed body. "I don't like threats," he sneers. "I really don't like little girl's threats."

"Commander!" A new voice calls. A maester in black forces his way through the men crowded around us, the smell of ale wafting from him. "The young ladies are guests."

"I am Eliana of the House Baratheon," I tell him. "I bought passage here to reach Castle Black and I need two horses."

"Of course, Princess," the older man bows. "Adam, get the king's sister two horses!"

When the men begrudgingly back away, I tighten my hand around Sansa's and whisper, "Put on your hood. I didn't plan on telling anyone who I was, we don't need them figuring out who you are, too."

…

We have to stop when night falls and make camp. The horses aren't too tired so I would have pushed on if not for Sansa. Riding isn't her strong suit and I've already torn her comfort away by forcing her to travel without guards so I compromise. What's one more day of being miserable in the scheme of things?

Sansa watches me carefully as I make a fire, breaking the haunting silence with her confusion.

"When did you learn how to do that?"

"I don't know," I murmur. "I tried learning in King's Landing, but they never let me. No one stopped me in Winterfell, though."

"Did Father teach you or Robb?"

"Jon," I tell her, my voice a soft croak. "He taught me a lot."

"You two were close. I never understood why," Sansa admits. When I don't answer, she continues. "I was always so rude to him, like he wasn't my brother. I wish I could go back and appreciate everything had."

"It's not too late with Jon, Sansa. He's still your brother."

"The only one I have left," she mutters.

I glance over at her, seeing tear-filled eyes staring at the fire, and sigh. I wish I was capable of comfort, but I just can't do it anymore. I can barely speak.

"Jon will protect you," I offer instead.

Sansa's shifts her sad eyes to meet mine. "He'll protect you, too, Ellie."

"I don't need protection."

…

The gate to Castle Black looks like it has seen better days when it opens to let Sansa and I ride through. My eyes widen in disbelief when I take in the courtyard littered with dead men. A Night's Watchman takes the reins of our horses as I slide off the saddle and scan the area. The men in black are piling the dead, picking up weapons, and limping around with injuries. There's the familiar stench wafting around like smoke from a fire, one I know from travelling with Robb's army. Mud and sweat mixed with blood and death, the smell at the end of every battle.

"Who are you?" The man holding the horses asks after Sansa climbs off hers as well.

"Tell Tarly to get this beast locked up!"

"Ellie, look," Sansa whispers.

I turn towards the source of the shout and feel my eyes grow in surprise. He's much bigger than the last time I saw him, but his fur is still white as snow.

"It's a direwolf," the man tells me. "It belongs to a brother."

"I know," I murmur.

Ghost senses the stares and shifts his attention to us. His eyes land on me and stare through the short distance before approaching slowly. I kneel and remove my glove to offer my hand, letting the cold air bite into my skin from the sharp change in temperature. The direwolf sniffs me as I expect to ensure I'm the person he thinks I am.

"It's me, Ghost," I whisper. "It's Ellie."

He whines in recognition before sitting down and I can't help but wrap my arms around the animal. Memories of playing with him in the broken tower while Jon laughed at us comes to mind, but those are quickly squashed by my last memories of Greywind and I release the other direwolf suddenly like I've been burned.

"You're – you're Ellie," a new voice stutters above me. Glancing up to see another Watchman holding a long sword in its sheath, I stand to face the rather round man and meet his wide gaze. "You're the pr-princess."

"Who are you?" I question cautiously as I put on my glove, catching Sansa tensing from the corner of my eye.

"I'm Sam. Samwell Tarly," he introduces quickly, giving a little bow.

"Tarly?" I repeat, recognizing the name from my studies. "Of Horn Hill?"

"That's the one," he confirms with a small smile. "I'm a friend of Jon's."

"You are?" Sansa chimes in from beside me. "Where is he?"

The smile falls away and he glances down at the sword in his hand. The pieces of my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach as the familiar stench fills my lungs again.

 _Not Jon._

"He just left, but he'll be back," Sam assures. "He always comes back."

Sansa and I share a look of fear, one that says we're imagining the most horrific possibilities.

"I'll take you to Maester Aemon," Jon's friend offers. "He can explain everything that happened here."

…

The blind maester is very kind to Sansa and me, despite my empty responses. He knows who we are, understands the true reasons why we are not where we're supposed to be are not up for discussion, and offers us the relative safety of Castle Black. I'm rather discouraged, however, when the elderly man and Sam explain the grave threat the Night's Watch has been facing while the rest of Westeros has been fighting a different war.

I took Sansa away from King's Landing to bring her to a safer place, but now I'm not so sure Castle Black is it.

Of course, my fear is only intensified when Sam explains where Jon went. He went to speak with the king-beyond-the-Wall, but every time the Tarly boy says 'speak,' his voice softens. I know it's not an outright lie, but his lack of confidence doesn't do anything to boost mine. I pretend that I believe him for Sansa's sake, but the weight of worry I feel for her and Jon has me on the verge of collapsing. Thankfully, she seems to be putting on a brave face for me as well.

After we finish speaking with Maester Aemon, Sam leads us to the room Sansa and I will share. It's probably around the same size as the cabin we had on the ship ride here, but neither of us seem to care. Sansa has grown a lot since she left Winterfell because the young girl who dreamed of handsome knights would have been horrified by the musty room. Now, her disgust only shows through when she spots the old mattress, but it's quickly disguised by politeness.

"Where would you like the chest?" Sam asks. He was a little confused when I wouldn't let it out of my sight earlier, but he didn't ask any questions and he seems to be even more careful with it now.

"On the bed is fine," I murmur. "Thank you."

"Of course," he says with another smile. "I'll leave you to get comfortable. You're both probably exhausted from riding."

"Thank you, Sam," Sansa tells him with a kind smile.

"Of course," he repeats, pleased to have earned a smile from a pretty girl. "Shall I start a fire before I go?"

"That's alright," I tell him.

He nods before giving another little bow before scurrying out of the room. I bolt the door behind him and quickly move to start the fire so Sansa won't get ill. The silence is soothing for me, but not so much for her. While I relish in the emptiness of the moment since it's how I feel inside, Sansa grows uneasy quickly.

"What if Jon doesn't come back?" she questions.

"He will," I assure her.

"But what if he doesn't, Ellie? What will you do?" she presses desperately. "Where will we go? With Joffrey dead, they'll be looking for us! You must know that!"

"Sansa, I don't know where we will go if Jon doesn't come back," I say with a sigh. Moving to sit beside her on the questionable bed, I take her gloved hands in mine. "If – and it's a big if – by a horrible twist in fate we're dragged back to King's Landing, I promise you will not suffer for my crime. I killed my brother and I will face the consequences."

"Cersei will want me dead as well," Sansa argues.

"Yes, but Cersei is not running Westeros anymore. With Tommen on the throne, my grandfather rules without having to deal with a maniac. Despite whatever he tells others, I did him a favor. And he won't harm you or let you be harmed because you are the future of House Lannister so long as you can provide an able-bodied heir."

Sansa tears her hands from my grasp. "I will not go back there," she insists sharply.

Unable to hide my eyeroll, I sigh again. "Like I said, it's a very big if, love. We should get some sleep, it has been a long journey."

I can tell she wants to continue the conversation, but I cannot. I have no idea what we will do if Jon doesn't return. I'm not even sure if I will be capable of doing anything if he's lost, too.

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I only remove my gloves and outer cloak before moving Ned's chest to the floor and climbing into bed. Sansa does the same, but only she manages to fall asleep. All I can do is imagine all the horrible things that could happen to Jon, leaving me unable to protect one more person I love.

…

I'm not sure how much time passes as I lay in the chilly, dusty room. There's noise outside that acts as a soothing hum and Sansa's soft snores accompany the small fire crackling to keep us warm, but it does little to help the exhaustion. I hang on the edge of sleep, desperate to lose myself in thoughtless rest if only for a moment, only to find my mind won't stop no matter how much my body begs. There's no escape from the past. The images stain the back of my eyelids, refusing to allow me an empty sleep.

When I finally give up and settle for just staring at the wood beams of the ceiling, a commotion from outside quakes the aged furniture. I sit up, hearing the familiar sound of a large amount of horses hoofing over mud while the men grow louder. The bed I'm on shakes like an army is riding through the gates, but Sansa is in too deep of a sleep to confirm my suspicions.

Slipping from the bed, I quickly pull my thicker cloak on with my gloves and leave Sansa to investigate. Over the railing of the walkway, I immediately see the cause of the noise and recognize the banner these armored men carry. I've never seen it in person, but I know the crowned stag of my house in a heart of fire belongs to my Uncle Stannis and I hurry down the steps to find one of the last remaining Baratheons in the world.

I've never had a particular fondness for the man and, despite how much I didn't care about my claim to the Iron Throne, it never sit well with me that my uncles seemed to skip over me and stake their own claim. Then, when the war that took my family offered an opportunity to defeat my bastard brother and Stannis and Renly couldn't put their pride aside to fight with the King in the North, I had all but denounced our family ties. I didn't care if they wanted to fight for a crown I didn't want, I just wanted to go home and live the peaceful life I craved.

Anger courses through me when I think about how things could have ended differently. Our armies could have fought together and I could be back in Winterfell with my husband and my son, but they refused the simple alliance. The love for my Uncle Stannis wanes to nearly nothing, yet I search for his face in the crowd as if looking for my father, like a glimpse at the cold man will give me a glimpse into the past before horror claimed it.

But the face I find does not belong to Stannis.

I shove my way through the men without apology, ignoring the confused or surprised looks I receive. My eyes are already wide as I scan the army while I try to remember what he looked like when my father took me to Dragonstone so long ago, but then I stop in my tracks as my gaze lands on someone far more familiar.

My ruined heart stutters as our eyes connect across the small distance. He looks older and worn from the recent battle with cuts and bruises marring his face. The sadness that haunted his brown eyes from the first moment I met him in the stables has hardened over time, but just as they did when we were children, they soften as they stare back at me.

Everything around us at Castle Black disappears, leaving him the only person in existence. More emotions than I can count color his features, but it all starts to blur as tears fill my eyes. I'm frozen to the dirt of the courtyard, breathless and overwhelmed, when he starts to take several hesitant steps towards me.

The closer he gets, the more real he seems, but it has been so long since I've seen him, my mind can't decide if this is true.

He stops with only a step between us while his eyes search my face with the same disbelief.

"Ellie?" He breathes my name like a prayer and a soft gasp escapes my lips as the familiar gruff voice causes bumps to break out over my skin.

"Jon," I whisper in return as the tears leave cold trails on my cheeks.

His voice thaws my bones and the distance between us closes. I throw my arms around him while his wrap tightly around me, lifting me off the ground, and I cry into the crook of his neck.

Nothing can take away my pain, nothing can heal my shattered heart, but the cold that consumes me relents for a brief moment of warmth in Jon's arms.

* * *

Hey everyone!

WOW! The reviews for the last chapter were amazing, I was so blown away! Thank you all so much for the feedback, it was so exciting to see what everyone thought. I'm really glad that everyone seemed to be as happy as I was when Ellie got some much needed revenge.

This chapter was really hard to write, which is why it took so long to post. I'm still not entirely confident about the reunion. There were so many emotions that I wanted to portray, but I think those will be seen more in the next chapter. I just feel like Jon and Ellie were so shocked to finally see each other again, that was all there was to do in that moment.

Also, I intended to include more drama for Ellie and Sansa on the journey because it seems a little bit unlikely that they could get so far without a problem, buuuuut I really just wanted Jon and her to be back together already. So, I hope no one minds how brief the trip was!

What do you guys think? I would love, love, love the amount of feedback I got last time again! Please let me know if I got the reunion right or missed the mark! I love your honesty and reviews. I take everything you guys say and use it to make my writing better.

There were a couple of questions from the reviews I wanted to address as well. Jon has no idea that Ellie and Robb had a baby, so we'll see how that news is shared and taken in the next chapter. Rickon and Bran's storyline is still the same as the show for now so they are alive. They will also be brought up in Chapter 20. Ser Alton was the one who told Cersei and everyone in King's Landing that Ellie was pregnant back when Robb sent him as a messenger. I'll try to address this in a later chapter to maybe bring some light to what receiving that news was like for Cersei. I'm always happy to answer questions so feel free to ask more.

As always, thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following!

Hope to hear from everyone,

\- V :)


	20. Chapter 20

Jon's POV

The last time I saw my sister she was a doe-eyed child who could hardly spare enough of her time to say goodbye to me when we parted ways. Now, she's sleep-deprived and older than her years, a woman recounting the events that have occurred since we were last together.

Sansa stares into the fire, clutching the bowl of soup I brought her while she describes the horrible details of our family's demise. She begins with how angry she had been with our father when he decided to step down as Hand and return to Winterfell and comes to an end after saying that she was forced to marry Tyrion Lannister quite recently. She colors in between the lines with things I already knew – Robb being named King in the North, Theon's betrayal, Bran and Rickon's deaths – and more that I never imagined, like how Joffrey had promised mercy before beheading our father, how Arya has been missing since he was arrested, and how Ellie was dragged back to King's Landing after Robb was betrayed.

I manage to ease some of the stress etched on her face when I relay what Sam told me after I returned from my time with the Free Folk. Bran and Rickon are alive still, though the older of the two has ventured into a dangerous place, the knowledge is enough to erase the image of them being strung up at the gates of Winterfell after Theon murdered them.

Sansa asks about me for the first time in her life, but I share very little. I intend to tell her the truth because I can already see she isn't the child I remember and after everything she's experienced, I know she could most likely handle it. However, I find myself too preoccupied to give her more.

"She's been with him a long time," I mutter, my knee bouncing impatiently.

When I saw Ellie across the courtyard, I thought that maybe I had been killed in Mance's tent and everything that occurred afterwards was imagined. Ever since I returned to Castle Black after my time with Ygritte and the Free Folk, I thought she was dead. They told me my brother had been killed at a wedding by Roose Bolton and Walder Frey, but they failed to mention anything about her. I never wanted to believe that Ellie was gone, but there wasn't any proof to say differently.

There was no proof to say she was alive until she was in my arms, until I could feel her body pressed against mine and her hair tickling my cheek the same way it did when we said goodbye in Winterfell. In that moment, I managed to push back all the thoughts of what happened only hours earlier while I committed everything about Ellie to memory once more. Unfortunately, our reunion was cut short by Stannis Baratheon.

Ellie barely breathed my name a second time before her uncle took her away and she only threw the words over her shoulder when she told me about my sister. I have not seen her since.

"It's hard to get information out of her now," Sansa tells me. "She hasn't said a hundred words since Robb died, even less since little Ned…"

"Who is little Ned?" I press when my sister trails off with a frown.

Her Tully blue eyes turn to me in surprise. "You didn't know? You were so close, I just assumed she would write to you with the news."

She only wrote to me once and it didn't share any news I didn't already know.

"Robb and Ellie," Sansa murmurs, "they had a son."

My throat goes dry at the news.

It's not as if I didn't know this would happen. The image of how in love Ellie and Robb were at the wedding has been burned into my mind to remind me that they belonged together ever since. After marriage comes children and I know Ellie has always wanted to be a mother. None of that, however, could prepare me for the sharp pain I feel because it's one more reminder of everything my brother could give her and everything I never could.

Until I recognize the more important part of Sansa's sentence.

"They _had_?" I repeat softly. "Where's the baby?"

Sansa's gaze returns to the fire and I watch the flames cast shadows on her darkening expression.

"Joffrey," Sansa takes a breath after his name, like just mentioning her former betrothed hurts. "Joffrey murdered him."

The air leaves my lungs in a single, swift movement and I understand why Sansa needed a break before sharing the truth with me. Everything turns to ice inside as I try to process something so horrible, but it's impossible. It's impossible to understand a baby, my nephew, being murdered. Any jealousy I felt dissipates as my heart breaks for Ellie and the child I will never meet.

"That's why Ellie killed Joffrey." Sansa adds to the shock. "We escaped King's Landing that night."

…

Ellie's POV

"Many believe the war ended at the Blackwater, others when the Young Wolf was slain, but the Prince Who was Promised stands strong." The redheaded woman in crimson robes tells me from where she stands beside my uncle sitting at the desk.

"'The Prince Who was Promised?'" I repeat.

"Stannis Baratheon, the one true king," she says as if it's obvious.

"Who exactly promised him?" I question in the closest thing I've felt to amusement in a long time.

"The Lord of Light," the red priestess answers with such certainty that I struggle to withhold my scoff. I've always believed in the gods and respected those who believe differently, but since they are either nonexistent or have forsaken me completely, her belief seems foolish.

"Joffrey Baratheon, your half-brother, is dead," Stannis says.

"I know."

"They're saying Tyrion Lannister murdered him."

"They're wrong."

"How do you know, Princess?" The gray-bearded man to Stannis' right asks.

"Because _I_ killed him."

Uncle Stannis' brows rise as shock uncharacteristically contorts his features. He sits up straighter in his seat and his fist tightens on the desk, but he doesn't speak. He continues to stare at me – watch me, size me up, I'm not sure. In an earlier part of my life, my uncle's unsmiling face would have been intimidating. Now, I only find it slightly irritating.

"You killed him?" The unfamiliar man presses when it's clear his king will not. "Your brother?"

"Yes, I stuck an arrow in my brother's neck and watched him die," I tell him, my eyes shifting to meet his wider ones. "I didn't even wash the blood off before I left the Red Keep with Sansa Stark."

"Why?" he questions.

"Joffrey murdered my son," I say. "I can't think of a better reason to kill one's brother."

The older man's mustache twitches, his eyes shine with empathy, perhaps even understanding, and he does not demand any further explanation for which I am grateful. My uncle and the red woman stay silent on the matter as well as I did them no harm with my crime.

"You followed Robb Stark," Stannis says in the same gruff voice he had when I was a child. "Robb Stark was a false king as well. Give me a reason to not punish you the way I would others who committed the same treason, Eliana."

"Robb Stark made no claims to the Iron Throne and he did not declare himself a king. He just wanted to save his family and rule the North," I offer as sound reasoning, but it clearly falls on deaf ears. Suppressing the desire to roll my eyes, I take a different route. "I was married to Robb. I did my duty as his wife. Now, he is gone and I have no duty."

Stannis continues to peer at me carefully. Vaguely, I wonder if facing the one person whose blood does stand between the Iron Throne and his right to it is disorientating. All his followers seem to have forgotten my existence during this war, but it's easy when I'm either on the other side of the world or standing beside a different king. Now, he stares into the same blue eyes as his own, as my father's, while trying to justify his claim to himself. I want to tell him outright that I am no threat, I'll never be one, but I'm curious to see if he'll come to the same conclusion on his own.

"Tell me, what do you want if you have no duty?"

I want many things, but none that he would care to hear, so I choose a simple one that will leave him with the belief that I am just a directionless widow.

"To go home, _Your Grace_."

…

The stables are dark and full at Castle Black, but they don't smell as bad. One perk for living in such coldness, foul odors seem to freeze before they reach one's nose. I wish the same can be said for noises because Stannis' army and the Night's Watchmen provide too many reminders of the recent past. Armor clinks the same, swords clashing sings the same, and the voices of men drown together until they're all the same as well. I blink and I've returned to Robb's camp, surrounded by Stark men, but my mind is cruel. I blink again and all who surrounded me are dead.

I think I did well in convincing Uncle Stannis that Sansa and I are only here for the protection we blindly believed Jon could give us. In return, he has assured me that Sansa and I would get to go home soon. He believes I am no threat as he should and I may have lead to him to the assumption that I do indeed agree that he is the one true king.

A young part of me is spiteful and wants to argue the fact. If I had an army and if I actually cared, perhaps I would make the claim Lord Stark wanted me to a lifetime ago. However, there are only two things I am capable of caring about at this point and one of them is keeping Sansa safe. So, I will do or say what I must to ensure of that.

"Ellie?"

I close my eyes when I hear his voice and it wraps around me like a chill brought on by the wind. I never imagined something I craved to hear for so long could cause so much pain, but it does. I'm not sure why, but my heart aches like sore muscles that have been overstretched. Yet, it begs for Jon to move closer and find some way to take away the hurt it feels.

"I thought you would join us when you were finished with Stannis," he says.

I can hear it in his voice, the _knowledge_. Sansa told him what has happened, or she has told him what she knows. She can't tell him everything, but she can tell him what I cannot. Those words that expand in my throat and choke me do not have the same effect on her. They do have some effect on one's tone, however, as they do with Jon's. I'm not sure what it is – sympathy, sadness, horror – but it's enough to slice my skin and leave it open for the cold air to sting.

He moves closer, I can see him in my peripheral approaching me like I am someone different. Am I not just Ellie anymore? Or is he not just Jon?

"Sansa told me," he murmurs, so close that the fur of his black cloak brushes my arm.

No, I'm not just Ellie anymore. Just Ellie was an innocent child and I am anything but now.

"Ellie," Jon says again. His gloved hand finds mine, touching it gently to get my attention.

When I finally turn to look at him, I realize that he can no longer be just Jon either. His brown eyes are the same color, they soften just for me as before, but there is still something different. The innocence has left him as well.

Jon's other hand finds my cheek and brushes the messy hair away from my face. The leather of his glove isn't warm, but it shields my skin from the cold and offers something to focus on aside from the past that I know he wishes to speak about.

"I'm so sorry," Jon whispers.

"It's my fault," I say in the same tone. "My son is dead because of me."

Jon's brows crease in confusion and he opens his mouth to argue, but I don't let him.

"I provoked him without fear and Ned suffered for it."

"Nothing that has happened is your fault," Jon promises, but he is beyond wrong. "What happened to your son was done by a monster who you could not control."

I want Jon to make everything better. I want his words to mean everything and heal every part of me that is broken. I want the safety of our broken tower and the comfort of our childhood innocence. I want to be just Ellie warmed by just Jon, but that can't happen, and it would never be enough.

"Jon," a Night's Watchman calls from the entrance to the stables. "It's time."

I step away from him and his hand falls from my cheek. Jon ignores his brother, willing to stay with me despite the funeral about to happen for his friends, but I don't let him.

"You should go," I say, turning back to the horses to end the conversation and escape his invasive gaze.

Words are just words and asking them to be anything more is foolish.

…

I find my way to the top of the Wall in the early hours of morning. The sun has risen and is only slightly obstructed by the clouds. A new morning brings colder, crisper air that feels like ice burning the inside of my lungs. I inhale deeper and welcome the feeling because at least it _is_ a feeling. Unfortunately, the cold isn't all that I breathe in which is why I decided to take the life up to the sky.

The foul smell of burnt flesh haunts Castle Black. First, they burnt the Night's Watchmen who died during the battle against the Wildlings. Then, they burned the dead Wildlings. Finally, Sansa and I watched from the top of the staircase closest to our room as Stannis executed the King-beyond-the-Wall last night. His body burning has embedded itself inside my nose so everything smells the same. I'm not sure why the cold doesn't absorb it as it does with the stables, but I've theorized that it's Mance Rayder's ghost taking the form of furls of smoke to ensure no one forgets him.

I watched Robb behead Lord Karstark, but the execution was swift and kind compared to my uncle's way. Robb suffered far more than the man he killed in that case. I had never seen a man burn alive until last night and it was horrifying and entrancing all at once.

Mance Rayder was a stranger to me, I never spoke to him, never even looked him in the eye. Truthfully, I hadn't seen him until Stannis' men escorted him to the pyre built for the execution. He just looked like a man to me, not a king, not a leader, not someone who was above others nor someone who was below them. He didn't look like a monster or a hero, he just looked human.

Yet, Stannis and the red woman scorned him and then burned him alive for the great crimes of which they claimed he was guilty.

As the flames grew and began to shed light on his expression, the terror shown clear. His cries from the pain, his gasps from the smoke all became louder. His suffering was undeserved and I wasn't the only one who believed so.

We were all surprised when an arrow pierced Mance's heart, but I wasn't surprised by who was responsible for it. When I found him on a different staircase holding the bow, I felt the briefest sense of relief. It wasn't for Mance Rayder or the Wildings watching their king die, it wasn't even for Jon. It was relief for myself as Jon's actions offered me the knowledge that not everything has changed.

Jon may be different, it's all seen in his eyes, but his heart is still the same.

That thought accompanies me as I find an unguarded edge of the Wall, but quickly vanishes as I'm captivated by the view. I had been so disappointed in the Wall itself, I didn't think I would be impressed by what I saw at the top. The sight takes my breath away, however, leaving me awestruck by the beauty.

Snow covered mountains stretch as far as the eye can see. White dusted trees decorate the icy land and the sun casts shadows that dance in the wind. It seems this edge of the world goes on forever, free from anything that happens south of it. Time doesn't exist in the clouds and there is no future without time and no pain without the future.

My heart slows to a beat so calm one might believe I have fallen asleep, but my eyes are as wide as they have ever been. A voice, soft and sweet, calm and innocent, reminds me of a long-lost fantasy to runaway north of Wall. Only now, it doesn't tell me to _run_.

I cast my gaze down, but I cannot see the ground. All I see is white that somehow seems to reach for me, inviting and comforting. Would my heart stop before I reached the bottom? Would the void catch me before the pain does?

The voice, mine as a child I believe, promises an escape. An escape from all that haunts me, all that hurts me with every breath I take. It's so persuasive that I forget all other responsibilities and plans. All I need do is listen.

All I need do is… _jump_.

* * *

Hello,

This chapter took a different turn than I originally intended, but I'm really trying to diverge from retelling what we already know. I want Ellie to change the story so I'm trying to avoid just placing her in scenes that remain the same whether she's there or not. I hope that doesn't cause any confusion because things are still happening while she's there, I'm just not focusing on them, if that makes sense.

Thank you so much for the feedback. I was feeling a bit discouraged with this story, but your reviews, favorites, and follows mean the world to me! I hope to hear more soon.

If anyone has any questions or suggestions, please let me know. I would be happy to be answer them or try to incorporate them into the story any way I can.

Left on a bit of a cliffhanger and I'm anxious to see what you guys think. Please review and let me know!

Thank you, as always, for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following!

Hope everyone has a Happy New Year!

-V :)


	21. Chapter 21

Jon's POV

My fist knocks against the wooden door of the room Ellie and Sansa share. Since I don't entirely trust the former criminals who are now my brothers, I cannot stop myself from checking on the girls constantly. I intend to break fast with them this morning, but the plan is put on hold when Sansa answers the door to reveal she is alone.

"Good morning," she greets, still seeming very tired.

"Morning," I return. She lets me in the room and I quickly close the door to keep the chill away.

There is still a fire burning on its last logs, but both beds are made up and Ellie is nowhere to be seen. As Sansa returns to her bed so she can finish lacing her boots, an uneasy feeling fills my stomach. Where could she have gone to so early?

"Where is Ellie?" I ask as nerves get the better of me.

"I thought she was with you," Sansa answers dismissively. "She wasn't here when I woke up."

"I haven't seen her," I say and my sister's entire form changes.

Her eyes move from her shoes to mine in alarm while her fingers go still above the laces. Then, her gaze quickly shifts to the corner on Ellie's side of the room and the tenseness in her shoulders relaxes immediately. I glance to see what comforted her so easily, but all I find is a small chest.

"She won't go far without that," Sansa murmurs before returning to her shoes.

Moving closer to the chest, I see that it is completely unfamiliar. It doesn't ease my concern for Ellie like it does for Sansa because I haven't the slightest idea what could be inside that is so important.

"What is it?" I question, my confusion clear. I turn back to my sister when she doesn't answer and see her body has gone stiff again. "Sansa?"

She finishes with her boots before giving me her full attention. Her blue eyes fill with sadness, but her expression has become stone.

"It's his remains," she tells me. "Ellie wouldn't let him be buried in King's Landing. He's a Stark, he should be with all the other Starks."

A wave of sadness overcomes me as my gaze returns to the chest. Sansa told me about that day, how everyone in the Red Keep could hear Ellie's screams, how they seemed to echo off the stone walls long after she stopped. My sister had been in her marriage chambers with Tyrion and the two ran as fast as they could to find out what was wrong. Sansa said she thought the image of Bran broken and unconscious was horrible, that was only surpassed by seeing our father's head on a spike, but then she saw the baby.

I was glad when she spared me the description of our nephew after he died, but she chose to describe Ellie instead. Sansa shared the sight of her on the ground, cradling the blue-lipped babe, sobbing and begging every god she could think of to give him back. It was devastating, Sansa told me, like she really believed Ned could come back if she prayed hard enough.

After finding Ellie in the stables and hearing her take responsibility for her son's death, I saw that devastation in her once bright eyes.

"I thought the plan was just to come here, not go to Winterfell," I say. "Why would you not go there first?"

"That was Ellie's plan for _me_ ," Sansa explains. "She wanted to take me to you to make sure I'm safe, then she's going to take little Ned home."

"I don't understand," I admit. "Roose Bolton has control of Winterfell now. How does she plan on just walking through the gates?"

If Stannis told me about Lord Bolton, then I know he told Ellie and she's no fool. She can't possibly plan on just walking in and walking out without anyone noticing. She killed Joffrey, even if they're accusing Tyrion for her crime, I have no doubt they're still searching for her.

"I don't think she cares."

"She can't just not care," I argue. "If she goes to Winterfell, they will catch her and she won't be able to come back."

"She doesn't want to come back, Jon."

"So, Ellie just wants to be a prisoner then? Or sent back to the Capitol?"

"Ellie doesn't want to be anything," Sansa says tiredly.

My younger sister meets my heated gaze with resignation in her eyes. A chill runs down my spine as I try to understand the deeper meaning behind her words, but none of the answers I find are acceptable.

"What does that mean?" I demand.

"She told me she was already gone and she won't listen to anything I say," she tells me. "She's not the same Ellie that she used to be, Jon. I think we've already lost her."

Anger floods me suddenly at Sansa's suggestion. She is right in a sense, Ellie has changed as have the rest of us, but she isn't gone. I was willing to lose her to my brother because she was happy and I could hold onto that when it hurt the most, but I won't lose her like this. When I thought she died with Robb, the pain was suffocating and blinding, and I won't return to that.

"No, I don't believe that," I tell Sansa firmly, but she shakes her head sadly.

"Jon, you haven't been with her for very long. It's like she's already a ghost."

"We haven't lost her!" I snap.

The tone shocks Sansa because I have never used it on her before, but something seems to occur to her and silences any further argument. Frustrated, I storm out of the room to search for the center of our conversation, but outside the warmth of the bed chambers, reality sinks its icy claws into my covered skin.

Losing Ellie is a very real possibility.

That thought lends a sense of urgency to my search and I rush around the castle grounds trying to find her. After opening every door I pass and checking the stables and dining hall, my nerves intensify, and I can feel the cold sweat beading on the back of my neck. I finally find an answer while I'm scanning the courtyard and Edd comes to see what is wrong.

"Have you seen Ellie?" I demand, gripping his shoulder tightly.

"Aye," Edd answers, glancing at my hand in confusion. "She asked if she could go up to the top of the Wall. I told her to take the lift."

I release his shoulder without a word and quickly move towards the lift. It moves aggravatingly slow, creaking from old age the whole way. When it finally reaches the top, the brothers on watch are standing by the fire and nod in acknowledgment to me. I move past them, knowing Ellie will have sought solitary, but the farther I go without seeing her, the faster I move.

Until I finally find her.

"Ellie, stop!" I shout.

One foot dangles over the edge and I lunge towards her, wrapping my arm around the front of her waist just as her other foot slips off the ice. For a brief and terrifying second, Ellie hangs above the 700 feet drop before I'm able to throw us backwards onto the freezing ground of the Wall.

Draped on my lap, Ellie is still for a long moment, as if she believes she's falling. My heart thuds in my ears with the same level of fear I felt during the battle. My grasp on her remains tight, refusing to allow her to even get close to the edge again, but she isn't struggling against me.

Finally, she turns her face to mine as she is shaken from the daze. The glossy look in her stormy blue eyes dries up as reality returns to her. I'm left watching as every ounce of pain she has ever felt returns to her, blow after blow, and the tears wet her eyes once more. She shudders beneath the weight, crumbles with agony, until she finally cracks under the pressure.

"Make it stop, Jon," she suddenly pleads, her voice blown away with the wind. "Make it stop."

Ellie's voice breaks as a sob interrupts like a vicious thunder clap.

"Make what stop, Ellie?" I question urgently, willing to do anything to never let her beautiful face contort in such a miserable way.

"The pain," she cries in that scratchy, desperate way. "Make it stop hurting. I just want it to end."

It has been so long since I've seen her, a lifetime has passed between us. On two different sides of the world, we fought wars we never could have anticipated. I signed up for mine, but Ellie was dragged into hers. And like the person I have always loved, she faced it with strength and courage, she did everything she was expected to, but it destroyed her. Now a lost war, she is practically the sole survivor and forced to carry the entire aftermath on her own.

The Ellie I left was sad, maybe nervous and anxious, but she was still full of life. Just as she had been the first moment I met her. Now, she has a tiny thread left inside of her. One frayed piece keeping her here, but weighed down by the past.

And she just wants a way to sever it completely.

…

Eliana's POV

It could have all been over.

That's all I can think about as Jon picks me up from the ice and guides me to the lift. Those words are the only ones that resonate as the entrapment creaks angrily until we're on level ground. He takes me all the way to the room Sansa and I have been given and we find it empty aside from the glowing fire. He pushes me to sit on my bed before pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders. Then he moves to the fireplace to add more wood.

"Why didn't you answer my letters?" I ask in a voice hoarse from the crying. "I wrote so many."

"I only got one, Ellie, and I did write back," he says. "I told you I was going north of the Wall. I never got anything else."

The confusion barely slips past the frozen state of my heart. "That's strange," I mutter. "I thought you just never wanted to speak to me again."

"Why would I want that?" Jon questions as he moves back towards me, but I only shrug. "I've wanted to speak to you since the moment I left."

"What have you wanted to say?"

Jon sits beside me, shaking his head with the smallest of smiles gracing his lips, "Everything."

He begins to describe his life since leaving Winterfell and arriving at Castle Black. He tells me of the advice my Uncle Tyrion gave him, the friendships he's made with his brothers, the enemies he's had. He talks about running away in the night to join Robb's army and how his friends brought him back because his duty was to the Night's Watch. He says how disappointed he was when he didn't make ranger, but ended up being the Lord Commander's steward. He only stops when he reaches the time when they journeyed further north.

"What happened over there?" I press.

Jon's voice, rough as it is, has a soothing affect on me. He unravels my coiled muscles and jumbled nerves while somehow breaking through the numbness surrounding my cold soul. It's not that it fixes anything, but it offers a temporary escape from all the horrid thoughts plaguing my mind. If I focus on his voice, the familiarity of it, the warmth, the safety, I'm able to breathe freely. It's like when I was a child in King's Landing watching the many tournaments my father demanded and seeing two knights or lords whom I liked going against each other. I would close my eyes when their lances were just about to hit each other just so I wouldn't see one of them fall.

When I closed my eyes, it blinded me to the scene, but I could still hear everything going on around me. It was a brief comfort, a moment when everything else was in the background, but eventually I would open my eyes to see the winner and the loser. With Jon's voice filling the small room, I'm able to push everything, no matter how loud it screams at me, to the background. And I fear how much more it will hurt if he stops talking.

"I went with the rangers who had already been out there, I wanted to find Benjen, and then we came across a small group of Wildlings. We killed them, but then I caught one who was a woman," he explains. I notice the slight change in his voice, probably from listening so closely, when he mentions the woman. "I couldn't kill her."

"She meant something to you?" I guess.

A crease forms in between Jon's brows and I realize his frown is more telling than his words would be. A strange feeling comes over me, something I'm not entirely familiar with, something much different than the pain digging claws into my chest.

"She got away, I went after her, but lost the others. In the end, the Free Folk took me. Another ranger was taken as well, he made me kill him so I could infiltrate their camp, learn their plans."

"You had to be one of them?"

"Aye," Jon murmurs. "They're good people, most of them at least. They're not that different from us."

"This woman, does she have a name?" I ask cautiously.

Jon looks up to meet my gaze, but his eyes seem careful in a way I haven't seen. "Ygritte."

"And you," I'm forced to stop to swallow the lump in my throat because I know exactly why he couldn't kill her just from the way he says her name. "You love her?"

He doesn't answer, but the tenseness left in the air from my question is enough. I suddenly realize what the strange feeling is that's twisted my heart in a new direction. _Jealousy._ Jon's life in Winterfell comes into a new light as it occurs to me that this is what he felt. But I've never even met this woman, never seen them together, while Jon was related to the other man in my life, he was forced to watch us get married.

I would've left home too if the situation was reversed. Even a taste of jealousy is more than I can take.

"Is she in the cells with the others?" I nearly choke on the question. How selfish am I that I can't even talk about _her_?

"No," Jon replies this time. "She's dead."

All the bitter feelings of the immature part of me fall away as I recognize the hardened and broken look in his dark eyes. I know without asking that he saw her die, maybe he even tried to hold her as I did with Robb. Maybe Ygritte's blood stained his skin and her final words haunt his every waking moment. And maybe he's thought of a thousand different lives that they could have shared and been happy, safe, and _alive_ if he had only changed one thing.

I know all too well and it kills me to know that Jon is suffering from that kind of pain. There are no words, no way to fix it, no way to stop the pain. I begged him to take it away, but he can't, and he has enough of his own to deal with anyway.

I miss the safety of our broken tower where we hid from everything together, but since we can't go back, I'll settle for this little room in Castle Black. I lay my head against his shoulder like I used to and pull my left glove off so it faces the chilly air. Jon doesn't move as I pull his right glove off, but he does when I place my hand in his. As the warmth left on our skin quickly dissipates, his fingers entwine with mine.

We stay like this for a long time. I just wish it was long enough for both of us to feel better.

* * *

Hello!

So...please don't be mad at me lol. I know it's been a while, but I swear I didn't forget about this story! I've just had horrible writer's block.

I'll be honest, I'm not proud of this chapter. I've been really stuck for a long time so I finally just decided to publish what I had and then ask what you guys think. I have the basic the idea of where the story is supposed to go, but I've made a lot of changes since my original plan so now I'm not entirely sure how I want to get there, if that makes sense.

I have a shaky idea, but before I actually go with it I wanted to see if you had any suggestions? Please review or PM me if you do, I would seriously love to hear them and would really appreciate it.

I apologize for the delay in this chapter and for how short and uneventful it was. Please review and let me know you think anyway!

Thank you so much for reading, favoriting, and following. And special thanks to my lovely reviewers.

-V :)


	22. Chapter 22

******Please Read!******

 **I have decided to rewrite this story…**

 **I am so grateful for all my wonderful readers. Your continued support with this story means the world to me.**

 **Unfortunately, I have not been happy with the way this story has gone. It really is nothing like my original vision. And I'm sure you have noticed that my OC does very little to change the original storyline. I love writing Ellie, but I've been very disappointed in myself and that takes the joy out of writing.**

 **So, I decided to rewrite it and I'm even more excited about it than I was when I first began. I have lots of plans once again, but this time I will be following them! I intend to do the characters more justice than before, explore things with more depth, and actually make big CHANGES to the plot!**

 **One of the big things that I didn't originally want to put in was Ellie's love for Jon and Robb being equal. I never intended for Ellie to begin this story in love with both, but since I did, I sort of ruined any relationship she could ever have with Jon later on because, as someone mentioned in a review, it was disrespectful to Robb's memory. The rewrite will approach her relationships with both very differently and give them much more justice.**

 **I'm also going to explore other relationships more that my OC has and clarify things that I don't think ever really made sense. For example, I'll explain why Cersei was so strict with Ellie because there is a reason!**

 **Also, I decided to write in third person point of view instead of first because I tried it with my other story and I like writing that way more.**

 **I'm going to post a new story under a different title. I'll change the summary of this story to say it's being rewritten and to check out the new one. I'll also probably delete this story in a little while. I've never rewritten a fic on here, so I don't know if that's the normal way, but I'm just going to go with it.**

 **Again, I love you all for sticking with me this long and I'm sorry for starting over, but I hope you'll give the new version a chance. It's going to be very different and hopefully a lot better! The first chapter is the only one that didn't really change. There are a few similar scenes in the first couple chapters, but they are still going to be very different!**

 **Since I know it's against the rules to post chapters that aren't actually chapters, I thought I would add some sneak peeks into the new story!**

…

 **Sneak Peek 1**

Rain trots alongside Robb's horse while Ellie looks around in wonder. The princess would be lying if she said she wasn't frozen solid, but the surrounding woods outside the walls of Winterfell are too beautiful for it to matter. She is truly bewildered by how clean the air is as well. She sucks in breath after breath, smelling the mossy trees and the damp dirt. The wind sends strands of her black hair flying out of the braid it is twisted in and the chill seeps through her cloak, but she loves it. Her skin aches from the cold, her eyes burn from the wind, yet her smile is brighter than the southern sun.

"Are you having fun, Princess?" Robb asks her as he takes in her happy form.

"Yes, this is nothing like riding in King's Landing," she says. Ellie glances over to meet his warm gaze. "Are you?"

"Yes," he answers simply. Silence falls over them once more, the air turning awkward.

Ellie is unsure how to form a relationship with the boy she's meant to marry. Things are so formal and uncomfortable between them. She begins to suspect that Robb has no interest in being promised to her, but is trying his best to be polite. The thought makes her think of her parents and she grimaces at the image of them standing next to each other like strangers. Cersei's stony-faced expression and Robert's blatant disrespect for his wife is evidence enough that they never wanted to be together. It's everything Ellie doesn't want her marriage with Robb to be.

But she's only ten. How can she create a lasting relationship when they are just children?

 **Sneak Peek 2**

"Do you ever wonder what it's like in other places?" the young princess questions suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Like do you think you can really touch the clouds on the top of the Wall? Or is the sun really brighter in Dorne as they claim? Are the free cities truly free? Or is it all stories?"

"I don't know," Jon answers quietly. "Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I lived somewhere else."

"Like where?"

"Anywhere, really. The Capitol, the free cities, north of the Wall, Castle Black…"

"Castle Black?" Ellie questions. "You think about life in the Night's Watch?"

"My Uncle Benjen is a brother," he reminds her. "Who you are before doesn't matter there. You give up the past when you take the Black."

"But you'd have to spend the rest of your life there."

"Well, we all have to spend the rest of our lives somewhere, don't we?"

Ellie sits up and gazes at Jon's face with a scowl.

"What?" he questions as he mimics her position.

"What do you mean 'what'?" she demands. "If you go to the Night's Watch, we'll never see each other."

"I didn't say I was going," he tells her, though she catches the way his dark eyes dart away. "I just said I've thought about what it would be like."

"It would be hell," she decides. "You can't go there."

Jon looks away again which makes Ellie's stomach tighten with fear. She grabs hold of his hand and his gaze flies back bewildered.

"What would I do if you weren't here?" Ellie murmurs. "It's a horrible thought."

The boy's eyes tell her that he has a thousand things to say, but his mouth remains closed. Instead, he nods in agreement and squeezes her hand. They return to laying down in the grass with their fingers still laced together.

* * *

 **Please check out** _ **Torn Apart**_ **! Thank you so much again. Let me know if you have any questions or comments!**

 **\- V :)**


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